Silence
by Doctor Haifisch
Summary: After four years, Zidane has returned - but not alone. Kuja is with him, but trapped in silence. Zidane must tell Kuja's story or watch him face inevitable justice. As it turns out, Kuja's story is like nothing they ever imagined... "You are in pain – a pain you do not even understand. The agony consumes you. Do you enjoy this feeling? Do you enjoy suffering as the Gaians suffer?"
1. Secret in Silence

**A/N: Guys… I am **_**so sorry**_** about this fic's disappearance. I **_**truly**_** am. Like the Kuja in this story, I can't even find the words to explain how sorry I am. **

**So here's what happened: I removed **_**Silence**_** and **_**White Noise**_** because I was getting involved in professional writing, and I wanted to give them a proper re-edit. Unfortunately, before the edit happened, there was an incident. I lost… so much data. Horrifying amounts of data. Luckily, my super amazing friend (the same person who beta'd these fics originally) helped me track down all the missing chapters of **_**Silence**_**, allowing me to re-edit them as originally intended. **

_**White Noise**_** has been **_**almost**_** entirely resurrected, but the last two chapters are still missing. If **_**anyone**_** saved them, please, **_**please**_** send them to me. I **_**may**_** know a way to track them down, but on the off chance that my plan doesn't work, I would appreciate any help I can get. **

**Also, I'm setting up an AO3 account where I will be reposting these same fanfics. The username will be the same: Doctor Haifisch. If you like the drawing I did for the cover for this fic, you'll find even more drawings to go with each chapter of **_**Silence**_** and **_**White Noise**_** over in AO3!**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy IX or anything related to its franchise.**_

**CHAPTER 1: A SECRET IN SILENCE**

Kuja had such deep, blue eyes. They were beautiful – or they had been, before everything fell apart. His face, too, was empty. Where an artist had once painted, there was now an empty canvas. Kuja's face was like a doll's: it was perfect, and it was empty.

Zidane brushed the white, gauzy curtains aside, allowing the sun's radiance to light up the room. With his face illuminated, the shadows carved into Kuja's face became more apparent. The illusion of perfection was washed away.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Though Kuja's pale skin glowed elegantly in the morning sun, his blue eyes were dull. Zidane pushed the tall, glass windows apart. The warm breeze lifted Kuja's glossy silver hair. Zidane turned and gave him a tremulous smile.

"Warm out there, too. Would be a perfect day to practice sparring."

As expected, there was no response. Kuja hands were folded in his lap, and his eyes were fixed on some unknown point in the distance. Zidane kneaded his forehead in exasperation.

There was a gentle knock at the door. Zidane hesitated, chewing on his lip, then shouted,

"Who is it?!"

"General Beatrix, Your Majesty."

Zidane turned away from Kuja and headed towards the door. He only opened it a fraction, however, forcing General Beatrix to squeeze herself inside. Zidane immediately locked the door behind her.

"Hey," he greeted. The general snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Some king you are. One of these days, the queen will _have_ to teach you some manners."

"And good luck to her." Zidane chuckled. "So… what's up?"

"You're needed downstairs. More boring meetings, I'm afraid." Zidane caught Beatrix's eye flickering towards the open window. He followed her gaze and saw Kuja seated beside the windowsill, unaware that anyone had entered the room. The silver feathers in his hair fluttered lightly in the breeze. One of the curtains brushed gently across his face.

"Still no change?" Beatrix raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Of course not."

The general's lips tightened. Zidane had become adept at reading the subtle cues on her face. She was refraining from saying something. He was about to ask her what was on her mind, but she cut him off before he could speak.

"Time slows for none, Your Majesty, so if you would – the meeting…"

"Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets, I gotcha."

Zidane was _sure_ he saw a flicker of a smirk on the general's face before she turned away. He followed swiftly behind her, not even bothering to glance at Kuja.

It's not as if anything would change.

;

Garnet wasn't sure how long she'd been standing outside the room with her fingers gripping the cold doorknob. The room was driving her insane. The more it repelled her, the more she desired to enter. With a deep breath, Garnet stuck a finger down her long, white glove and pulled out the brass key she stole from Doctor Tot's office. Fingers trembling, she twisted the key inside the lock. The click was so loud in the silence that Garnet nearly jumped out of her skin. She took a deep breath to calm herself before turning the handle and squeezing herself inside.

In truth, nothing at all had changed – as if time itself was frozen within the room. There was a bed with a gauzy canopy, and there, the marble armoire her mother imported from Treno. The man who _killed_ her mother was sitting in front of the window. If not for the fact that his face haunted Garnet's nightmares almost every night, she could've believe he was another decoration inside the room. Kuja's silver hair blended perfectly with the drapery, and he moved about as much as the chair he sat upon.

Shaking from head to toe, Garnet began to approach the figure.

_He can't possibly hurt you… _she told herself over and over. Yet that comforting thought was quickly blasted apart by the jet of fire exploding from Bahamut's mouth. Garnet could practically _feel_ the flames rolling against her skin – the water rising up to swallow her away.

Shivering, Garnet stepped forward until she was facing Kuja. He didn't lift his head or acknowledge her presence.

Garnet hesitated, then took another deep breath. "…Kuja…?"

There was no response. Garnet quietly repeated his name, but the man neither flinched nor moved.

It was hopeless. Garnet's emotions scattered like minnows in a pond, sliding through her fingers before she could grasp them and analyze their meaning.

She felt fear, certainly.

And sadness, because Kuja's presence made Zidane unhappy.

Garnet also felt frustration, because nothing could be done about the situation.

There was also unease. And rage.

Rage that she could never tell Kuja what she _really_ thought of him.

But most of all, Garnet felt apprehension. With Kuja hidden away inside the castle walls, there was no telling what would happen.

Garnet could still remember that day so well… the day her joy turned to devastation.

When Zidane made his triumphant return to Alexandria, he and Garnet spent _one_ perfect night together. Zidane gave absolutely no indication that there was any darkness hidden behind his smile.

It wasn't until the following day, while Zidane and Garnet relaxed peacefully in bed, that he finally said the most dreaded words of all:

"_Dagger… we need to talk."_

_Garnet curled up against Zidane's side, stealing his warmth and breathing in the scent of cedar that clung to his hair. _

Oh, if we could stay like this forever…_ she thought despairingly. Instead of speaking her mind, however, she merely gave Zidane a curious, "Hmm?"_

"…_It's not good news…" he admitted._

_Garnet's mind wailed in protest. _Don't… please… I'm so happy…

"_What is it, Zidane?" Garnet's throat was tight as she forced the words out. _

"_It's… it's about what happened at the Iifa Tree."_

_Garnet tensed against Zidane's body. He ran his fingers gently through her hair._

"_You don't have to talk about it if it's too soon," she whispered, hoping he would take the hint. _It's too soon for _me_, Zidane… I'm not ready to hear this…

"_Well, it's just that it's about Kuja…"_

_Garnet was as shocked as Zidane when a broken sob tore from her lips. As if that wasn't humiliating enough, large tears began to run down Garnet's cheeks. Zidane continued stroking her hair, as if that could somehow soothe her._

"_He's dead," Garnet sobbed. "Tell me he's dead…"_

"_He's not dead," Zidane murmured. "He's here, in Alexandria. Tantalus is hiding him inside their ship." _

_Zidane let Garnet cry for several minutes. _

My perfect world… in less than a day it's over…

"_Zidane… how _could_ you…?" Garnet whispered into his side. With great effort, she raised herself onto one elbow and stared furiously into Zidane's eyes. "How could you do this to me?! Kuja murdered my mother! He started a world war! Tens of thousands of innocent lives were snuffed out… and you brought him _back?!_" _

_Zidane reached out slowly, awkwardly, and thumbed away the queen's tears._

"_Dagger, you have to understand… Kuja is the reason we're still here. He's the one who saved us from the Iifa Tree."_

"_One good deed does not resolve a lifetime of bad ones!" Garnet swatted Zidane's hand away. "Kuja is the most evil man in all of Gaia's history!"_

_Zidane squeezed his eyes shut as if he were in pain. "It's complicated, Dagger,"_

"_If he kills more people, the blood will be on _your _hands! Do you have any idea what that would mean?!" Garnet's eyes burned as she waited for an answer. Zidane's face fell. _

"_Kuja can't hurt us anymore."_

"_If you think for _one moment_ that he's changed – "_

_Zidane's raised his blue eyes, and they pierced through Garnet. "Kuja's body is alive, but his mind..."_

_It took Garnet several moments to process what Zidane was saying. "Is he... damaged?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "A head injury...?"_

"_No." Zidane shook his head. "It's more like he's…" _

_Zidane wouldn't meet Garnet's gaze. She pressed her fingers against her lips in horror as she realized what he was implying._

"_Zidane, is… is Kuja _soulless_…?"_

_Zidane flinched, and it took him a moment to recover his voice. "I don't know…" It was an obvious lie. "All I __know is, there's nothing he can do to you now…"_

"There's _nothing_ you can do …" Garnet echoed.

The silver feathers in Kuja's hair fluttered in the breeze. Something stirred within his eyes – a shadow of regret, perhaps. Garnet wasn't sure if the grief she saw there was real, or if she was imagining it in a feeble attempt to reanimate Kuja's face. Garnet backed away slowly. She wished she'd never come to see him.

She wished he was dead.

;

That night, General Beatrix requested an audience with the king. The request itself wasn't so unusual, if not for the fact that she asked that they meet on a bench in the night garden.

Delicate, white flowers blossomed in the darkness, their pale petals reaching towards the starlight. They sat there - two battle-hardened heroes - breathing in the dark beauty.

"Until I moved here, I never knew flowers could bloom at night," Zidane mused. General

Beatrix nodded thoughtfully as she plucked a white flower from beside the bench and twirled it between her fingers.

"Kuja used to love this place. Even as the war escalated into chaos, he would sit out here in the dark and admire the flowers. I think it was the only time he could escape the conflict."

"That's what you wanted to talk about, isn't it?" Zidane glanced at Beatrix from the corner of his eye. "You wanted to sit me down here in this pretty place and make me get rid of Kuja."

Beatrix was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed and let the flower drop from her fingers.

"Your Majesty, I must be blunt…"

"As if you aren't always."

Beatrix smiled, but it was cold, and without humor. "If Kuja isn't removed from the castle, I'm going to arrest him for war crimes."

"You can't!" Zidane hissed, whirling around in horror. "He's not in his right mind – it's against the law!"

"It won't matter in the eyes of the court. They still reel at the very _mention_ of his name."

General Beatrix's eye tracked the pale moth that flitted by. "He'll be executed."

Zidane couldn't hide his panic. "Don't do this, Beatrix. I'm begging you, don't do this to me."

It was unlike Zidane to beg, but Beatrix was unfazed. "It's a matter of principle, Your Majesty." She held out her finger and allowed the moth to land upon it. "I cannot rest while Alexandria's most feared war criminal sits comfortably in the castle. You may see Kuja as a brother, but how many of your people are seated beside an empty chair at the dinner table tonight? How many brothers did your people lose?"

Zidane buried his face in his hands. "It's more complicated than that and you know it."

"Is it?" The moth fluttered back into the darkness. "I think it's quite simple, really. Your wife is suffering, Zidane, so you have to choose: Kuja or Garnet."

Zidane raised his face and stared out into the garden. The eerie, white light bled the color from his skin and shimmered in his eyes. General Beatrix had to suppress a shudder. In the rare moments that Zidane was overcome by that haunted stare, he became the terrifying doppelganger of his "brother." Their features were alarmingly similar: the delicate nose, the intense eyes, the doll-like profile…

Then again, Zidane and Kuja had been crafted from the same mold, hadn't they? Beatrix was sketchy on the details, but from what she'd gathered, Kuja and Zidane were nearly identical on a genetic level. The only true difference between them was their souls, and as far as Beatrix could tell, Kuja had lost his soul somewhere between the Iifa Tree and the castle.

Zidane shivered, and a little life returned to his eyes. "Why do this to me _now_, Beatrix?

Kuja's been in the castle for over half a year without incident. Why can't we let it stay like this?"

"Because someone will find out eventually," said Beatrix calmly. "I can't imagine what that would mean for you or Queen Garnet. You'd be arrested as liars, criminals… _traitors_, even… Your Majesty, you're the king now. You have a responsibility to your kingdom. Do the right thing: _get rid of Kuja_."

Zidane let out a shuddering sigh. "Who will take care of him…?"

"Your Majesty told me the Black Mage Village was caring for him just fine. I doubt that's changed in the last six months."

Zidane's face grew troubled. "Look…" His voice was softer than before. "This whole thing with Kuja… it's complicated. Dagger doesn't understand, and I don't expect you to either, but if I told you I _have _to keep Kuja around, can you at least _try_ to believe me?"

"I find that a rather difficult request."

"Beatrix, please, you _have_ to understand – "

"Then _make_ me understand," she snapped. "Tell me _exactly_ why you're willing to risk _everything_ to keep a living corpse in the castle. Her Majesty is too emotionally attached to hear your explanation, but _I'm_ not. Tell me why I shouldn't strike that man down right where he lies."

Zidane's boots shuffled in the dirt, smothering white flower petals. He was twenty years old, yet he seemed as much a child to Beatrix now as he had when he was a common thief. She wondered if Zidane would ever mature enough to be king.

"Tell me _everything_," Beatrix demanded.

"It's… it's such a long story…" Zidane's blue eyes glimmered darkly.

"I have _all_ night, Your Majesty. My duty is to guard you, and I will guard you straight into the morning if I have to." Beatrix's lips curled into a sneer.

Zidane's eyes went out of focus as he fell back into the thorny arms of the past. "Alrighty then…" he murmured.

"I'll tell you everything…"

**A/N: Thank you once again to any of my returning readers. I know I tried your patience, and I'm sure you gave up on me, so I'm going to try and make it up to you by making this fic better than ever. I'll continue to post the rest of the chapters one-by-one as I finish editing them. Hopefully they're a much better read now. **

**Rally-ho until the next chapter!**


	2. Desolation

A/N: At last, the revised chapter 2. I want to mention that if you check out the x-post of this fic over at AO3, I include artwork with each chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy or any aspects of its franchise.

**CHAPTER 2: DESOLATION**

_I woke to the sound of my own screaming. I sat up in horror, with no idea _where_ I was or _what_ the hell was happening. I remembered a loud noise… confusion… and then pain. So much pain. I remembered throwing myself over Kuja, his stiff armor jabbing into my ribs – _

_And then there was darkness. _

_But it wasn't dark anymore. In fact, it was annoyingly bright, given my aching head. Maybe I was dead. Maybe the gods forgave my nonconsensual butt groping and sent me to Heaven. If this was Heaven, however, it was a _lot_ drearier than those Burmecian priests would have you believe. A sheet of gray, smoky clouds suffocated the sky. The ground beneath me was cold. All I could register was that I _hurt_. Every inch of my body was either throbbing, smarting, burning, or numb. My first instinct was to curl up in a ball and cry like a baby, but the rational, sixteen-year-old part of my brain demanded I keep the tears at bay. _

Get your bearings first, cry like a baby later.

_I tried to think back – retrace my steps after the Iifa Tree went berserk… First, I'd leapt on top of Kuja, and then – _

Kuja!

_I tried to stand up and immediately collapsed in pain. I lay on my back, wide-eyed and stunned. _

If a Genome cries like a baby and no ones around to hear it, does it make a sound?

"_Okay…" I wheezed. "That was stupid… C'mon, Zidane… Use your head… This can't be any worse than Baku's beatings…"_

_When it felt like I could move again, I carefully placed my palms on the ground and pushed myself up. It was slow, agonizing torture, but after several minutes, I made it to my feet. Then I stumbled a few steps and waited for the world to stop spinning. _

I don't have enough brain cells left for a concussion, damnit...

_It wasn't hard to find Kuja. In the midst of all that endless, brown dirt, he was a vibrant splash of white and red and purple. He looked like an exotic bird that got shot from the sky. Without thinking, I staggered over and rolled him onto his back. Kuja looked pale. _

_And corpse-like. And dead. _

Crap…

_I shook his shoulder a little harsher than necessary, but was rewarded with a pitiful groan. My first thought was, _"thank the gods…"

_My second thought was: _"what the _hell_ am I doing?!"

_The moment Kuja's eyelids lifted, I whipped out my dagger and held it to his face. The glint of my blade flickered in his eyes. Kuja looked utterly unimpressed. Typical._

"_Don't make me use this!" I pleaded. "Just because I rescued you doesn't mean I trust you!"_

_Kuja sneered. With the blood staining his teeth and trickling down the side of his face, he looked more than a little insane. "Just like you to beat a dead horse, Zidane." _

_I hesitated, then gripped the dagger tighter. _He's manipulating you…

"_Prove I can trust you."_

_Kuja's pale eyes wandered across the sky. "When did you become so jaded, Zidane? You once played the role of the dashing hero. Now you hold a dagger to the neck of a dying man."_

"_I may be dashing, but I'm not stupid." _

_Kuja's eyes blinked slowly as a painful breath shuddered through him. "Kill me. My war robbed you of your innocence… You must take revenge."_

"_I don't want revenge!"_

"Everyone_ wants revenge!" Kuja's eyes went wide with hysteria. I flinched in surprise, but before I could reply, a familiar roar deafened the air. I cringed as the sound faded back into the horizon._

"_Mistodons…"_

_Kuja's eyes drifted closed, but I shook his shoulder until he opened them again. He looked satisfyingly irritated._

"Must_ you interrupt my final moments?" _

"_It was you, wasn't it?" _

_Kuja's eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a bird. "What are you talking about?"_

"_You were the one who teleported us out of the Iifa Tree. That's how we wound up out here."_

_Kuja didn't respond. Another roar shook the earth. I grit my teeth together. _

"_If you teleported us, then you still have some magic left. We have to get out of here."_

_Kuja attempted to sit up, but he was in a great deal of pain. I reached out to help, but he swatted my hand away with an angry hiss. _

"_I'm _fine_!" He managed to pull himself into a sitting position, but it drained all the energy from his body. He panted pitifully for several moments before leveling me with a murderous glare. _

"_Why did you save me, you fool?!"_

"_Huh?!"_

"_You're an _idiot_ – "_

"_Well, you teleported us _both _from the tree, so _excuse me_ for misinterpreting the situation!" _

_Kuja's eyes widened. I glared, refusing to back down. I could feel Kuja's gaze burning through me, and for a moment, I was sure he was reading my mind. Then his eyes flickered and he looked away._

"_We cannot stay here." _

_Well if that wasn't the most obvious statement I'd heard all day. "Can you stand?" My own strength was aready waning. I was cut, slashed, and bruised over most of my body. Kuja, however, had fallen an incredible distance before reaching the Iifa Tree. _

_Still, against all odds, he pulled himself to his feet and only swayed for a moment before holding his head high._

"_Let's go before I regret rescuing you," he growled. _

_I sighed. Yeah, this was gonna be fun…_

_The journey was slow, but the farther we got from the Pualei Plains, the less likely we were to run into Mist Monsters. Dregs of the Mist choked the sun and drained the land beneath us. It was unusually cold. When we camped out that night, the temperature plummeted so severely, we could see our breath in the air. With a bit of magic, Kuja lit a fire, and I used the weak light to assess my injuries. By some miracle, nothing was broken, but I had a nasty gash running up my left leg. Some vines had torn right through the skin, and the wound was still oozing. My back was badly bruised from the Iifa Tree's roots, and my left arm seared with pain whenever I moved it. I wondered if I'd torn a muscle. _

_Kuja sat motionless by the fire. The orange flames reflected eerily in his eyes. _

"_Can't you heal yourself?" I asked him. Blood was crusted beneath Kuja's hairline, leaving crimson strands of hair dangling in his face. He looked at me slowly, as if it took a great deal of effort to tear his eyes from the flames._

"_I'm fine."_

"_You keep saying that." _

"_Because it's true."_

"_Have you forgotten we completely kicked your ass in Memoria?"_

_Kuja smirked. "It would take more than a team of miscreants and a giant weed to kill me."_

"_What happened to, '_must_ you interrupt my final moments?'"_

_Kuja reached out and caught a twist of flames with his fingers. The fireball spun above his palm like a crimson moon._

"_I _am _dying, Zidane."_

"_Yes, you're mortal!" I huffed in annoyance. "Join the club!"_

_Kuja made a fist, smothering the little red planet. _

"_At least you're free…" I said slowly, and with more than a little guilt. Kuja didn't respond. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Though his face was impassive, I could see his silver tail swishing agitatedly behind him. _

"_So… what will you do with your newfound freedom…?" I asked him. "Buy a boat? _

_Marry a Burmecian? Nude modeling?"_

_Kuja said nothing, and we fell into silence on opposite sides of the flames._

_;_

_That night, as I lay by the ashes of the fire, I tried to figure out the _why_. It was because of guilt, wasn't it? It had to be. I glanced over at Kuja's body. He looked asleep, but he was probably unconscious._

"_I'm dashing, not stupid…" I mocked out loud. What a pile of Chocobo shit. I was the stupidest man on the planet. Here I was, romancing the _queen of freakin' Alexandria_, and I threw it all away to save a man who _hated_ me. And for what? He didn't even _want_ to be alive._

Don't say that…_ I thought as I drifted off to sleep. _If Kuja truly doesn't care about his life, then Garland wins…

;

It was a strange dream.

The pit was glowing, and he could feel the red light pulsing over his body. The boy could hear words whispering in his mind, but the true voice spoke to his right – the only words that mattered.

"You will not leave any survivors."

The child agreed, because he had no reason not to. And yet, for the first in his life, he felt the stirring of an unfamiliar emotion.

It seemed to be fear – or, at least, it was symptomatic of what the crystals defined as fear.

But he had no reason to experience such an emotion. The voice commanded, and he obeyed.

Yet the fear lingered nonetheless, like talons in his chest that refused to release. What was it that he was so afraid of?

When the boy met the cold eyes of his master, however, he understood.

For the first time in his life, he was afraid of what would happen if he failed…

;

_The next morning, I awoke to shrieking birds passing overhead. Something must have spooked them. I glanced across the fire pit and saw Kuja lying there, pale and still. _

_Worried, I reached over and gave him a shake. Kuja's eyes cracked open and he swatted my hand away._

"_Thank you for interrupting my beauty sleep." _

"_Believe me, sleep isn't going to make you look any less hellish."_

"_Thank you ever so kindly." Kuja rolled his eyes and sat up. He was even paler than the day before, and there was blood speckling the ground where he'd slept. I finally noticed – among the cuts and scratches – a dark bruise spreading across the left side of his stomach. When he caught me staring, he gave me a look that could melt the Ice Cavern._

"_Mind your own business, Zidane."_

_I held up my hands in surrender. "Sorry. We need to work on getting some water. And a bath. We both smell like Ghysal Pickles."_

_I was growing fond of Kuja's scowl. _

;

_Travel was slower than the day before. Kuja's face didn't betray his pain, but his eyes did. I tried to make conversation, but Kuja didn't seem particularly interested. Most of his answers were short and clipped – barely more than a word. He was nothing like the man I'd seen boasting in his ridiculously ostentatious palace. Nobody loved the sound of their own voice more than Kuja, yet now he faded into the background behind me._

_Lost in thought, I failed to notice the ground trembling beneath our feet. I wondered vaguely if there was a thunderstorm approaching. It wasn't until a great roar bellowed across the plains that I spotted the Mistodon charging towards us._

"_Oh, shi – " _

_Even in his weakened state, Kuja's reflexes were preternatural. I cried out just as the Mistodon smashed face-first into a Barrier. It tumbled back, snorting angrily. Great, now it was unharmed _and_ pissed off. The lights in its mouth sputtered. I felt completely naked without my double-bladed sword, but I'd lost it in the Iifa Tree. I clutched my pitiful dagger and prayed the beast's armor was softer than it looked._

_The Mistodon charged easily through the weakened Barrier. I waited until it was almost upon me before lunging forward and slamming my dagger into its hide. I nearly blacked out in pain as the impact reverberated up my torn arm. The Mistodon slammed its head against my chest and sent me backwards. As I hit the dirt, I saw Kuja flinging a massive ball of electricity. It struck the Mistodon face-first, flinging its body back. The beast hit the dirt with a thud and began twitching. The lights in its mouth, however, were already stabilizing. Taking advantage of its momentary weakness, I scrambled towards my fallen dagger. The moment I grasped it, Kuja dove towards me. His fingers wrapped around my ankle and something tugged at the back of my skull._

_Then I was lying on my back and everything was quiet._

_I sat up, gasping, and tried to figure out what happened. The ground beneath me was patchy with grass and leaves. Scraggly trees ran along the banks of a thready river. Kuja was beside me, facedown. Wincing, I grabbed a lock of his silver hair and tugged. When there was no response, panic blossomed in my chest. I rolled Kuja over and found him ashen gray, with blood trickling from his lips._

"_Hey!" I gave him a rough shake. "Wake up, asshole! You're not allowed to die yet!"_

_Kuja still didn't respond, but he seemed to be breathing. Frustrated, I decided it was time to remove his armor. It wasn't like I _wanted_ to de-clothe him, but he refused to cooperate while conscious. It took me awhile to figure out how to unclasp the weird buckles holding it all together, but eventually, I managed to tug the armor away. I immediately groaned._

_Kuja's chest was a splattered canvas of bruises. He probably had broken ribs – he may have even ruptured something… With all the open wounds on his body, there was a high risk of infection._

_Speaking of which…_

"_Ow…"_

_The wound on my leg had split open during the battle. As adrenaline faded, the previously dulled pain began to sear. There was nothing I could do for Kuja, so I put his armor back on and started cutting strips of fabric from his sleeves. The silk wasn't nearly as absorbent as gauze, but it would do._

"_This is all your fault…" I grumbled at Kuja. "You just _had_ to go crazy and burn down a planet and rip a hole in reality and try to destroy the universe. _Typical_."_

_Despite my jests, the fact remained that I _rescued_ the guy. I clutched a strip of fabric between my fingers._

Isn't the person who aids the villain a villain too…?

_I glanced over at Kuja's body and felt cold._

Am I a hero, or his sidekick…?

_It occurred to me that Kuja might be manipulating me like Queen Brahne. Maybe he was totally fine and playing the damsel in distress to get out of his predicament. A part of me argued that Kuja would _never_ act weak, but then that pesky voice in the back of my mind reminded me that Kuja had absolutely no problem playing meek and humble if it meant sucking up to those who could aid him. He'd simply bide his time, playing the role of the lowly advisor, before – _

_I winced at the memory of ships burning in a hot sea._

_I was selfish. I was trapped on the Outer Continent, and if Kuja died, I'd be all alone. The coward in me couldn't bear it. Maybe the history books would call me a selfless hero for pulling the villain to safety, but the truth was that I was simply _afraid_. _

_I sighed, and the sound stirred Kuja from unconsciousness._

"_Well, well, looks who's back from the dead." _

_Kuja sat up slowly and pressed a delicate hand to his forehead. Then he frowned and gave me a peculiar look._

"_What?"_

"_Have you been cutting up my sleeves?"_

_I couldn't help but smirk. "Desperate times call for desperate crimes against fashion. I hope that outfit didn't cost you too many vacations homes."_

_I couldn't tell if Kuja was too tired or too annoyed to answer. He turned his face away and scanned the horizon. Meanwhile, I started cutting the cufflinks off my gloves. The sound of tearing fabric caused Kuja to whip his head around in alarm._

"Why_ are you destroying your clothing?!" _

"_These things are impractical," I said with a shrug. "And I'll fight better without them. Maybe _you_ should think about getting rid of the impractical parts of _your _outfit. Oh, wait…" I gave Kuja a pointed look. His eyes narrowed, and I prayed he didn't know any instant death spells._

"_So where'd you send us?" I asked, hoping to ease the tension. Kuja shrugged._

"_Near Conde Petie…"_

_Had I been drinking something, I would've spat it out. "You teleported us _all the way over the Mountain Pass?!_" Kuja nodded as if it was no big deal. I spluttered at him in disbelief. "And… and how much magic do you have _now?_"_

_Kuja didn't seem to hear me. He was staring up at the sky. "The Mist lingers, even out here. Perhaps you should go to the Dwarves."_

"_We," I corrected. "Perhaps _we_ should go to the Dwarves." _

"_Yes, I'm sure I'll be welcomed there with open arms." Kuja rolled his eyes._

_The overly-Zidane-ish part of me wanted to declare that everything would be okay – that I could vouch for him, and somehow that would clear his record. Luckily, I was getting more rational in my old age. _

"_The Black Mage Village, then." _

_Kuja froze. "I beg your pardon…?"_

"_We'll go to The Black Mage Village! If we could just explain to them – "_

_Kuja flew to his feet in a flurry. "You are a cruel child!" he shouted._

_I flinched in surprise. Memories flashed through my mind of __murderous, red eyes and a planet burning…_

_I lurched to my feet with my dagger. "What do you mean?!" _

"_Do you have _any_ idea what the Black Mages have been through?!" Kuja shouted. "How could you even _think _to show my face there?!" His lips peeled off his teeth in a feral smile. "Nothing's changed about you, Zidane. You are the same selfish, thoughtless, mindless _brat_ you were when I dumped you on this godforsaken planet!"_

_I saw sparks between Kuja's fingers and lunged before he could even twitch a spell. Kuja's back hit the ground hard. I pinned his arms with my knees and pressed the dagger to his throat. I felt wild with hunger and exhaustion. _

_To my surprise, however, Kuja was laughing. _

"_What's so funny?!" I demanded. _

"_That's right, Zidane!" Kuja cackled. "Such a good Angel of Death! So wicked! So _perfect!_" He practically spat in my face. "Do what you were bred to do, Zidane! Do what you do best and _kill me!_"_

_Blood misted over Kuja's lips as he shouted. My eyes widened in horror._

He's intentionally provoking me…!

_Dazed, I threw myself off Kuja's body and lay down my dagger. He rolled over and propped himself on one elbow, coughing. The ends of his hair were red, as if they'd been dipped in a massacre._

"_The Black Mage Village is your only chance," I said softly. "Maybe you think you're gonna die… but if that's true, then the least you can do is apologize to the Black Mages. Maybe _then_ you can find redemption."_

"_Lies," Kuja growled beneath his matted hair. "Did _Garland_ find redemption? When you learned who he was – when he _saved _your pitiful life – did you forgive him?!"_

_When I didn't respond, Kuja raised his head and glared at me through sticky strands of hair. _

Answer me… _he demanded telepathically._

_Did I forgive Garland…? _Could _I forgive Garland? He gave me life – I owed him that much – but he gave me life for the sole purpose of _ending it_. _

"_It was his job…" I said slowly. "Garland's only task in life was to resurrect the Terrans. He had no other purpose, so he didn't consider the morality of it."_

_Kuja's furious eyes glazed over in disbelief._

"_His job was to save the people of Terra…" I continued. "Even if that meant killing thousands of Gaians. His… original intention was good, but the task given to him was flawed."_

_Kuja shivered. "Garland had a _soul_, Zidane. He wasn't some mindless automaton. He was responsible for his own actions. _Anyone_ with a soul is responsible for his own actions."_

_Kuja turned his face away and coughed again. My mind was reeling._

"Anyone with a soul is responsible for his own actions…"

_Kuja was right – far too right. Maybe Garland couldn't be forgiven… Maybe _Kuja_ couldn't be forgiven. But I'd saved him, so what did that make me?_

_I didn't reach a conclusion because Kuja finally collapsed. He gazed up at me with agony swimming in his eyes._

"_I… I want you to kill me…" he whispered. "But… only after you've found a safe place to recover… I can't… I can't die until I at _least_ know you've made it to safety…"_

"_You're not gonna die," I said. _

"_There are villages…" Kuja squeezed his eyes shut in pain and finished his thoughts telepathically. "_Even closer than Conde Petie, there are villages who trade with the

Dwarves… if you find one, you might…"

_Kuja coughed again. Worried he might choke on his blood, I rolled him onto his side and held him up by his shoulder. _

_Other villages… But the Outer Continent was _huge_ – it would be like finding a single drop of water in the ocean. But we were out of options. We had no food, no water, and no supplies. Kuja was too weak to teleport. Ignoring the pain rocketing up my arm, I scooped him off the ground and flung him over my shoulder. I thanked Garland for making me ridiculously strong. Kuja was older than me, with a few extra inches of height. He was also heavier – and stronger – than he looked. _

"_You know, you're crazy too," I grumbled as I staggered in a random direction. "You saved me first. You're supposed to _hate _me."_

"_I don't hate you…" Kuja murmured softly. "I was lying…" _

_The fact that Kuja was willing to admit that chilled me to the bone. He was worse off than expected. Kuja continued to speak, but the words were rambling and delirious._

"_I blamed you… for things outside your control… I had to kill you… I had to control… because I didn't know how… control what… was happening… when it was… so dark… that blue light… always glowing… always _burning_… I felt – felt _nothing_ when you were created… couldn't feel at all… But then… but then…" I felt a shudder run through Kuja's body. "It wasn't until I saw the beauty of Gaia that I learned how to hate… I wish I'd never had a soul…"_

_Kuja finally exhausted himself into silence. I didn't understand what he was saying, and he didn't speak again for the rest of the day._

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Comments/criticism are welcome


	3. Slipping Through the Cracks

**A/N: This is the point in the story where anyone who read the original version will wonder what the hell's going on. No, you're not losing your mind – about 85% of this chapter never happened in the original fic. I've had a lot of time to think about more interesting ways to tell the story, and this chapter is where I divert the plot. I want to emphasize, however, that none of these changes will cancel out**_**White Noise**_**. I got more PMs and emails about that fic than any of the others I removed, so I promise**_**White Noise**_**will still happen.**

**SLIGHTLY MORE IMPORTANT A/N: In order to tell the new version of this story, I had to take some massive leaps of faith with FFIX's plot.**_**I didn't change any pre-existing canon**_**, but I**_**do **_**tug pretty hard on some of FFIX's looser plot threads. I just hope I didn't pull so hard that I unraveled anything from the original canon. Furthermore, there are**_**no original characters**_**in any part of this chapter. You may find that hard to believe while reading it. If some of the characters seem unfamiliar, I promise their identities will be explained. I was able to elaborate on a lot of obscure characters and events from FFIX's history by studying the game's script and the**_**Final Fantasy Ultimania**_**. Any events in this chapter that seem to contradict the game's canon will make sense at some point, I promise.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Final Fantasy or any aspect of its franchise etc. etc.**

**CHAPTER 3: SLIPPING THROUGH THE CRACKS**

_I have no idea how many days passed. There comes a certain point, when you haven't had enough to eat, that you become your own shadow. You walk beside your body and feel everything from far away. I remember the sun rising and falling, and I remember the stones passing beneath my feet – but that's about all._

_Most of all I remember the dreams._

_They were fragments at first – cracks in my mind whenever consciousness started fading. Night and day ceased to have any meaning. I was either awake, or I wasn't, and when I wasn't, the visions came. Fragments became pieces, and those pieces became streams. Sometimes, I woke up and remembered faint impressions – a glowing blue light, a dark shadow – but they quickly slipped between my fingers. I'd seen the same dreams when I was a child, but now it felt like I was seeing the blue light from far away. Kuja didn't do a whole lot of sleeping either, because the shadows beneath his eyes grew heavier every day._

_The temperature continued to drop for some reason. We camped out by a stream that was slowing from the cold. When I put my hand in the water, it felt like ice. The plants around the stream were withering, and the ones that weren't didn't look particularly edible. I decided it wasn't worth the gamble. With our rotten luck, the plants might've turned us into Cactuar. Hiding out in some dry grass near the water, I tracked a herd of Zahgnol drinking from the stream. A smaller one with a limp wandered too far from the herd, so I launched myself from the grass and tackled it. Despite being injured, the beast nearly trampled me in the ensuing fight. My bad luck shifted when I slit the throat of the Zahgnol, then shifted again when the herd chased me, screaming like a girl. I had to wait until nightfall to retrieve the corpse. The only positive part of the experience – besides having some food – was that it brought out the old Kuja for a moment. When he saw me standing there, empty-handed and covered in blood, he gave me a look that could've withered the rest of the wildlife. As I explained to him what happened, I noticed the smirk hiding under his hair. I was tempted to shout, "made ya laugh!" but I didn't want to ruin the moment._

_Once I returned with as much Zahgnol as I could carry, Kuja lit a fire. He frowned, however, as the glow at his fingers stuttered. I decided not to mention it. While I roasted the tough, stringy Zahgnol, Kuja curled on his side away from me. I made a scorned lover joke, but I guess he didn't find it funny._

_Let me be the first to tell you that Zahgnols taste _terrible_. Lindblum's posh, upper crust society – the ones with sticks so far up their asses they come out their mouths – like to serve Zahgnol during the Festival of the Hunt. Those same morons, however, would drink airship fuel if you told them it was all the rage in Treno. Trust me, I would know: I spent my whole life robbing the rich Lindblumians blind._

_"__Well, you're definitely not missing much," I told Kuja, gagging and laying down my stick of meat. "I think I've been chewing on the same piece for ten minutes."_

_Kuja ignored me._

_I sighed and kicked dirt over the flames. Twilight was fading, and the light would attract more monsters by the stream. I felt a painful twinge in my leg. The skin around my wound was red and swollen. In a distant, shadowy way, it occurred to me that I had an infection. Unfortunately, I was too worn out to care. As soon as the flames died, I curled up on the cold ground and fell asleep._

;

It was raining.

What a strange sensation – like being submerged in water, and yet not. The boy raised his hands and watched the droplets dash against his fingers. The water shattered on a molecular level, creating the illusion of a glittering aura. He tilted his head back and let the cool water run down his face. In the distance, hazy shadows rose up over the mountains. A flash of lightning illuminated the solitary village. There was something so chaotic about this place. He knew it should concern him – the unpredictability – yet he found himself intrigued by the discord.

_Stay on task,_ the voice in his head commanded. _You are not here to sightsee. You are not to get distracted._

Of course not. The boy made his way towards the mountains. Wet, sandstone structures loomed overhead. When he reached the base of the village, he was engulfed in their shadows. Not a single soul halted his passing.

_It's the rain,_ said the voice. _These people are weaker than you and must seek shelter._

_For what reason?_

_There are many reasons._ _They are not important to you._

Of course not. As he walked, he gazed at the unfamiliar architecture. Water rushed through the archaic symbols carved into the buildings. Several men were standing beneath an especially large, circular structure with stone spires twisting towards the sky. He supposed it was a religious building. They were usually built with more grandeur than the others. He hadn't expected it to be guarded, however. These were a supposedly peaceful people, yet the men guarding the building wore thick, brass armor, and carried weapons. The boy observed the guards for a moment. One of the men stepped forward, clutching a spear.

"Who are you?"

What an odd question. "This is a holy place?" the boy asked him. The local language felt strange on his tongue.

"We do not get many travelers," said the guard. "Let alone uncloaked travelers in a storm. Speak now, outsider, or we will be forced to remove you."

_Stop wasting time,_ said the voice. _Perform your task._

A part of him felt… disappointed? The conversation with the guard was as unpredictable as everything else in this land.

"Are you _slow_, outsider? Explain why you have come to the Summoner village."

_This conversation is pointless, _said the voice in his head. _His fate is sealed – time and experience are meaningless. Your curiosity hinders your progress._

Of course. Speaking with the guard would not change what was meant to happen. He raised his hands and gathered energy between them. The guard's eyes widened, but the spell engulfed him before he could raise his spear. Before his corpse hit the ground, the other guards lunged. A moment later, four more bodies splashed down into the rain. The boy could hear distant shouting. Another Thundaga ceased the movements of the two guards who were seizing.

It was true then – the Summoners were weak. It took so little to return their souls to the cycle. The boy watched impassively as a dozen soldiers poured out into the street. He blasted them aside with the flick of his wrist.

With no one left to stop him, the boy continued his mission through the village. Anything that moved was obliterated. Summoners were thrown from his path, and buildings collapsed in the rain. The people ran from the boy in terror, their eyes wide in the darkness. Their screams rose into a crescendo with the thunder in the sky. The cacophony stirred something inside him – he felt electrified.

"Stand down!" someone shouted. "Stand down or we _will_ kill you!"

That was unexpected. He'd been led to believe that the Summoner people were opposed to violence. That information was clearly false. The boy paused for a moment to recalculate his situation.

There was movement to his right. A female Summoner was backing up against the wall with her arms out to shield two children. The boy paused. He had never seen children so small, besides – no, he did not wish to think about that. The boy raised his hand and engulfed the children in a fire spell. To his surprise, however, the flames rebounded with their full force. The boy took a step back, shielding his face from the flames. Through glimmering embers, he glimpsed the female Summoner on her knees with her arms around the children. They were unharmed.

_A Reflect spell, _the boy realized, mildly surprised. _So there are some here who are still versed in magic._

_Do not underestimate them,_ the voice in his head commanded.

That wasn't possible. The Reflect spell may have pushed back his Flare, but it was hardly the most powerful magic at his disposal. A more potent attack would easily break through the barrier. As he raised his hand, however, he heard the woman make a strange sound in her throat. The boy hesitated, confused. The rain was running strangely down her face.

_What…?_

The woman's head lurched towards him with her teeth exposed. The expression did not seem right on her face. He'd seen the same look on the faces of attacking Shell Dragons.

He was distracted for too long. The arrow plunged into his side as easily as a spear through the surface of water. The boy glanced down at the weapon, surprised. How had it pierced his Barrier spell? Another arrow flew towards him, but he easily caught it in his hand. The momentary distraction allowed the female Summoner to flee with the children. A minor setback – he would find them later. A crackling Thundaga swelled in his palm when the world exploded. The boy's clothes shredded as an impossible heat engulfed his body. He could feel his skin burning away.

When the flames dispersed, the boy found himself collapsed beneath the pounding rain. His ears were ringing loudly. He raised his hand to his forehead and saw his fingers sticky with blood. The boy dragged himself to his hands and knees. His clothing hung off his body in shreds. He focused his mind, isolating the pain and submerging it beneath more important thoughts. He would have to get rid of whatever attacked him. The boy raised his head, and his eyes widened behind bloodied strands of hair. Black wings blanketed the sky in a premature night. A great bellow shook embers from the sky like rain.

_An Eidolon!_

The boy had never been awed by anything before, yet he was frozen – transfixed – beneath the majesty of the King of Dragons. He'd studied the legends of Bahamut – of the incredible destruction it wrought. The wind howled and snapped as Bahamut flapped his wings.

_Get up,_ the voice in his head commanded. _You waste time with these feelings –_

An orb of flames swelled at the back of Bahamut's throat. When the boy stared into that gaping maw, he felt… _fear_. It had to be fear. Unlike the wounds scoring his body, the fear couldn't possibly be ignored. When the flames swallowed his body, the boy was almost grateful.

At least in death the fear would finally stop.

_;_

_I sat up with a gasp and pressed a shaking hand to my forehead. I could still feel phantom blood oozing down my forehead, along with residual heat._

What in high holy hell was _that?!_

_Isn't there an old wive's tale, that if you die in your dreams, you die in real life? I wrapped my arms around my body and shuddered. It was the most vivid dream I'd ever had. _Madain Sari? Bahamut?!

_The dream left me deeply unsettled. It felt like my true memories were converging – being distorted. I'd seen Bahamut burn away Queen Brahne's fleet, and I remembered the ruins of Madain Sari, but I knew absolutely nothing about the village before its destruction. Had the Summoners really resurrected Bahamut to protect their village from a _teenager? _I had to be losing my mind._

_It was the dead of night, but the dream had slapped me awake. I couldn't possibly fall asleep again…_

_A soft noise broke through my thoughts. It sounded like someone was in pain…_

_"__Kuja?"_

_There was a soft gasp, then a hiss. "What?!"_

_"__Sorry… I just – "_

_"_What_, Zidane?!"_

_"…__nothing."_

_Why did I even bother? I lay back down and winced at the throbbing pain in my leg. It had become a constant thorn in my side – or leg, whatever. I stared ponderously into the darkness._

_"__There's no night on Terra…"_

_I blinked, surprised to hear Kuja's voice."…What?"_

_"__The physical Terra is dead, and the spiritual Terra is buried in the dark beneath Gaia. The blue light never stops glowing, and there's no day or night…"_

_I snorted. "No wonder the Genomes nearly crapped themselves at the sight of their own shadows."_

_"__It's funny…"_

_"__You think _that's _funny? You're a cold bastard, Kuja."_

_My brother was getting good at ignoring my humor. "_You _are my greatest legacy, Zidane… Isn't that funny? By abandoning you on Gaia, I delivered its greatest hero." Kuja chuckled in a way that made me shiver from more than the cold_

_"__Kuja…?"_

_"…__what?"_

_I hesitated, chewing on my parched tongue. The question had been aching in my chest for days, yet I'd been too cowardly –_

_"__Why'd you call out to me from the Iifa Tree?" _

_Kuja was silent. The faint shuffle in the darkness told me he was at least semi-conscious, so I rephrased the question._

_"__When you were lying in the Iifa Tree, waiting to die, you called out to me in my head. Why'd you do that…?"_

_The silence stretched on for some time. Just as I was about to give up, I heard Kuja sigh. "Every actor must acknowledge the characters who comprised his play."_

_My throat went dry. Kuja was confessing to _something_. I glanced towards him in the darkness, but I couldn't see a thing._

_"__You didn't want to die alone…" _

_Kuja had the audacity to snort. "Such pettiness, Zidane… To have one by your side in death… what _difference _could it possibly make?"_

_"__You didn't expect me to come back to the Iifa Tree, but you still reached out to me before the end…"_

_"…__Did you know the Eidolons were _literally _born of legend?"_

_"__Uh…"_

_"__There's so much _power _in the spoken word," Kuja breathed. "Entire civilizations have fallen beneath the weight of words. With enough of that power, anything can live forever. It was through the legacy of stories – through the incredible _belief _the people had in them – that reality was born from fiction. Were the people of Gaia to forget the Eidolons – if every trace of their legends were wiped from books and stones and temples – the Eidolons, themselves, would die. Silence is the_only_true way to kill something. …With no one there to bear witness… It's like fading in the wind…"_

_I squeezed my eyes shut. _Damnit...

_I'd been _wrong_– I'd been a simpleminded fool. It was never about revenge or spite or power… To die was to be alone - unless he could drag the whole world down with him. Dying alone would mean never having died at all. Kuja feared he would disappear, with no one there to know_why._ His tale would be told with an indefinite ellipses. When enough years passed, no one would remember Kuja had existed at all. The cruel irony was that Kuja's quest for immortality was what resulted in his lonely demise. Kuja climbed a tower of corpses to reach eternity, then plummeted right back into the nightmare. He must've realized that as he faded in the dark tomb of the Iifa Tree._

_I felt so much despair… It weighed down on me until I thought I would sink into the ground. Still, I owed it to Kuja to say_something_._

_"__Thank you…" I whispered honestly. "For telling me this…"_

_There was no response. Kuja had fallen unconscious._

;

He felt hot, and there was a pain he could not ignore, despite his training. With great effort, the boy opened his eyes. There was a dull, sandstone ceiling overhead. When he turned his head to the side, he saw a single door. There was no handle. Light splashed into the room through a barred window over a hole in the floor. A latrine, most likely, indicating that he was in some sort of cell. The sunlight pierced his eyes and forced him to close them.

Other than the pain, he felt strange – as if something heavy was pressing him into the floor. The boy attempted to sit up, but his limbs wouldn't obey. The feeling returned again – the fear. It seemed he would never escape it – not since – since –

Something scraped against the floor. He cracked his eyes open and saw a woman stepping cautiously into the room. Judging by the smoothness of her skin and her slender physique, she was a young female – perhaps in her late twenties. The woman wore a hooded cloak with unfamiliar symbols sewn into the hems. When she lowered the hood, the hair that ran down her back was a cascade of dark brown, so thick it almost completely obscured her Summoner horn. Her hair was tied back with string. The woman stared down at him with a look he didn't recognize.

"You're awake," she said coldly. "And I presume you have a name."

A name? Was that not customary here?

_I'm disappointed,_ said the voice in his head. _You're letting them make a fool of you._

He attempted to reply to the voice, but his projected thought hit a barrier inside his mind and fell away. The surprise must have shown on his face.

"I'm sure you've realized by now that this room is Muted," said the woman. "You've also been washed with a mild Paralyze spell. If you wish to speak, I'll allow it, but from this moment onward, your voice is a privilege I can – and will – take away."

The only way he could attempt escape was to have the spell removed. His mission was not yet complete. He gave the woman a silent nod. She raised glowing hands, and he felt the magic stream through his body like cold water. The moment his voice was unlocked, he attempted to teleport. The magic failed. The Mute had been removed, but it was soaked into every inch of the walls.

"Now then," said the woman. "Who are you?"

Why did these people constantly repeat this question? He stared up at her in silence. Her expression darkened.

"If you don't speak, I will Mute you again."

_Who are you?_ The boy had no answer to that question. He'd asked something similar when he was younger, so he parroted the answer he'd been given.

"I am an Angel of Death."

The woman's mouth fell open, then pressed into a thin line. "Do not evade my question, outsider! _Who are you?!_"

"I am…" The words rose and then died in his throat. He looked to the woman for an explanation. "I do not understand."

"_What_ don't you understand?"

"The question."

The woman's frown deepened. "Give me your name, outsider. _Now_."

It felt strange to speak his name – he'd never said it out loud before. "My name is Kuja."

"Finally…" The woman sighed and waved her hand. Kuja felt the paralysis spell lift from his body. "Now we can speak like civilized people, though I doubt there is _any_ civility in you. My name is Jane. I'm the head White Mage of this village."

_A White Mage. One of the healing people, _Kuja recalled as he sat up and scooted back against the wall. The movement was extremely painful.

"It's only because we are a nonviolent people that my village allowed me to heal you," said Jane. "However, if you don't supply the answers we seek, there will be _nothing_ left to save you from our blades."

Kuja waited for a question, but his silence only seemed to anger the woman. She gave him a strange look and clenched her hands into fists.

"Why did you kill those people, Kuja? Answer me."

"I…" Kuja wasn't sure how to answer. Jane spoke as if he had done something unusual. "Is death not a natural occurrence in this village?"

Something like fear spread across Jane's face. "…of course death is a natural occurrence, but to die at the hands of another is _hardly_ natural."

"I don't…" Kuja's thoughts were horribly disjointed. Jane's questions did not lead to logical conclusions. "I don't understand…"

Jane's expression shifted. "…how old are you, Kuja?"

He had to think for a moment. "I believe I have existed for twelve years."

"…You're twelve years old?" Jane raised an eyebrow. "Don't try to win pity from me, outsider. I'm a healer. You are _at least_ sixteen."

"I was born matured."

"You were born looking like a sixteen year old?" Jane made a sound – a laugh? – that did not seem sincere.

"More or less. I did not go through childhood, but I was created with a body slightly younger than the maturity of my mind. The hope was that I might age while pliable, to allow for specified improvements."

Something stirred in Jane's eyes. "You were _created?_"

"Yes."

"With the mind of an adult and the body of a teenager."

"Yes."

"That… that sounds like a _terrible_ idea…"

Kuja couldn't fathom why. "The expectation was that I would grow."

"But you have not grown?"

He paused for a moment. "…No. I hope to eventually overcome this stasis."

"Kuja... the person who created you… did they send you here?"

"Yes."

"…Who sent you, Kuja?"

He failed to see why it should matter. "My master."

Apparently, his answer _did_ matter, because Jane's entire body seemed to slump. She pressed a hand to her forehead.

"…I need to speak with someone."

Jane flicked her wrist and Kuja felt the Mute spell clamp down on his throat. Jane shut the door behind her, leaving Kuja alone with the silence. The voice in his head was silent too.

_;_

_I shivered as the dream slid away._

It's him… _I realized in horror._The boy in the dreams is Kuja…

_Were the visions _true _then? They contradicted the story I'd been told about Kuja using the Invincible to rain destruction upon Madain Sari. I knew that story _had _to be true – I'd seen the physical memory in Memoria – so at what point could Kuja have been held captive? I would have asked, but Kuja was still asleep. It was strange, looking at him after the dream. Regardless of the "stasis" Kuja spoke of, he'd definitely grown a few inches in the twelve years that had passed since them. The aging mostly showed on his face, where the lines of pain cut shadows into his skin. In the pale light of dawn, I could see Kuja grimacing. Was it possible I was… sharing his dreams? It was a disturbing thought._

_Something cold landed on my cheek. I turned my head and gazed up into the gray sky. A snowflake drifted down, and then another. I dragged myself into a sitting position and held out my hand to catch them._

_"__It's snowing…" I whispered in astonishment. "In summer…"_

_"__It's the Mist." Kuja's soft voice jerked me from my reverie. "The pollution in the atmosphere is affecting the climate."_

_Kuja wasn't looking at the snow, however. His eyes were unfocused – distant._

_"…__You alright?" I asked him. I don't know why I bothered. Kuja always responded with the same irritated, "fine." This time, however, he shook his head._

_"…__No."_

_My stomach plummeted into the ground. _ _"… What is it?"_

_Kuja didn't respond. His glassy eyes drifted towards me and a concerned crease formed between his brows. "Your leg… it's infected…"_

_"…__I know…"_

_"__We… we have to go…" Kuja panted as he dragged himself to his feet. "Get up…"_

_I was relieved to see he hadn't given up. When I tried to stand, however, I immediately cried out and fell to one knee. Kuja's expression crumpled._

_"__Get up, Zidane…"_

_"… __I'm trying, geez…"_

_"__Get up!" Kuja suddenly grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me to my feet. "Get up now, or you _die!_"_

_As much as I wanted to yell at Kuja to stop being an ass, I understood his panic. Hope was dwindling every second that we delayed. The premature winter was plowing across the Outer Continent, and there wasn't an ounce of shelter in sight. How much longer could we possibly wander with infected wounds? It was pointless to hope for a storybook rescue with the storm taking over the land. If I didn't get up, all hope was truly lost._

_I stumbled painfully and shoved Kuja away. If there were tears in my eyes, he didn't mention it. With a pained glance in my direction, Kuja staggered along the path of the stream. It had completely frozen over._

;

Jane was on her knees, holding Kuja's arm to spread some kind of salve over the burns. The concoction stung, but left a cooling sensation behind. Though she'd used a mild paralysis spell to keep Kuja from moving, he failed to understand why she nonetheless healed him. He hadn't adequately answered her questions. Was it a lie, when she said they would kill him for unsatisfactory answers?

"Why is it…" Jane's voice broke through his thoughts. "That you look at everything as if seeing it for the first time?"

Kuja raised his head, confused. "Because I am." On a subatomic level, it was impossible to see something exactly the same twice.

"Is that why you're afraid of the dark?"

Kuja's brow furrowed with genuine confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Last night, I came to bring you food, and found you curled against the wall. You looked afraid of something. I removed the Mute spell, and you began rambling at me like a madman. Sometimes, you spoke in a weird language, but you mostly tried to communicate something to me. You said you were dying. I thought you were putting on an act so I'd remove you from the cell, but the panic in your eyes seemed far too real. You were so utterly convinced of your demise, I was worried you'd die by sheer will alone. When I insisted that you were fine, you told me over and over that 'the voice' had left you with the light. By then, I was convinced you'd been taken by a fever, so I put you to sleep and left my lantern behind. …I'm guessing you don't remember any of that."

Kuja shook his head. He felt something unpleasant at Jane's words. Surely she was lying. He'd studied the rotation of Gaia – he was perfectly aware of the darkness that fell across the land each night. Why did the woman tell him such lies? What was her motivation?

"You've never seen the night before," said Jane. It wasn't a question. "You look at your surroundings like a toddler wandering outside for the first time. You have no idea how to react to others, nor do you have empathy. It's as if… as if you are _soulless_. What did your master _do_ to you?"

_Soulless…? _No, it was his soul alone that made him different from the others…

"He gave me life," said Kuja automatically. "And a purpose."

Jane frowned. "Do you have any family, besides your master?"

"…I have… my people," Kuja decided. It seemed the closest match to the Gaian definition of "family."

_I have my people, _he thought. _And that _boy_… That _child_… _The fear first appeared when the boy was born. Kuja grit his teeth together to keep his words at bay. _Everything_ started with the boy.

Jane bowed her head. "Do you truly not understand why it was wrong to kill those people?"

"All living creatures die," said Kuja, reciting the words of his master. "The weak lose their freedom to the strong."

"Yes, but… you robbed those men and women of their futures." There was pain on Jane's face, despite her lack of physical wounds. "You took away the years they could have spent with their families. There was so much laughter they were meant to experience – so much joy. One of the guardsmen you killed – his wife went into labor this morning. He will never see his daughter because of you."

"…I don't understand," said Kuja.

"_What_ don't you understand?"

Kuja's throat was dry, and he wondered if he'd suffered a fever after all. "Why do you speak of this birth in a negative sense? What is the significance that the man will never see his daughter? One day, she will die too."

Jane bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Kuja wondered what was wrong. She pressed a fist to her mouth and bit down on her knuckles. Kuja finally noticed the water slipping from her eyes. That was twice now that he'd seen this phenomenon. It took several minutes for Jane to stop making the soft noises around the fist in her mouth. By then, her eyes were red and her shoulders were shaking. Jane inhaled deeply before speaking again.

"Do you not understand love? Friendship?"

"I… have studied these concepts," Kuja admitted. "It was a part of my education."

"…yet you haven't experienced any of it for yourself. You _can't_ experience it." Once again, it wasn't a question. Jane wiped angrily at her eyes with the back of her hand. "No, that's not true. I saw who you really were last night… I saw the truth… You say your master gave you the mind of an adult, but you're wrong. You're a child trapped in an adult's body…"

Kuja didn't understand what Jane was saying. She rose quickly to her feet and waved her hand through the air. Kuja felt the paralysis spell lift from his limbs. A soft glow was weaving between Jane's fingers – a Mute spell – so Kuja spoke quickly.

"Do you have a family?" The information had no importance to him, yet he asked anyways. A smile settled across Jane's lips.

"I have a daughter, Sarah. She's only four, but she's already getting rebellious. I can't seem to keep her from climbing."

Kuja nodded. "Will you release me from this prison?"

Jane paused, and the pain returned to her face. "Not until you understand what you did wrong…"

She cast Mute and left Kuja alone. The silence had never weighed down on him so heavily before.

_;_

_Our journey ended without any fanfare. We weren't attacked by monsters - we weren't crushed under a landslide. We simply didn't rise with the sun one morning. A layer of snow was crusted over our bodies. I wanted my last, waking thoughts to be about Dagger. I imagined her face – the dimples when she smiled, the sadness in her eyes as the airship pulled away… I saw her face every conscious moment, until the tears froze on my cheeks. When I was unconscious, I watched her through the eyes of a silent prisoner. She was older in my dreams, but no less beautiful for it. I wept for that woman, because she was going to be torn away from Dagger, just like me._

;

It was dark again, and he was alone. Kuja huddled in the corner of his cell and wrapped his arms around knees. His master still hadn't spoken. Why did he not contact him?

_I'm disappointed…_

Kuja felt another spike of fear. The voices in his head – the thoughts – the words – were racing. Was it possible his master… was it possible he'd been _abandoned? _The _boy_ would succeed him, but the child was far too young to be of use. No, his master would not leave him – it was illogical for his plans. Surely he would come – surely he would be saved. He was the Angel of Death –

Terror seized him.

_I've been abandoned…_ _He isn't coming…_

Kuja's thoughts fractured and scattered until nothing made _sense_. What would happen if he was trapped on Gaia? What if he could never return to Terra? What if –

What if he _died?_ Mute and helpless, the Summoners could easily kill him. He was mute and alone in a world he didn't understand. No one was coming and no one would save him and he was going to _die_ here, die in the darkness with no _words_, no hope – there would be _nothing_, no one, he was – he was –

He had to get out. His mind was sick with a parasite – it had to be – it was the only explanation for why his thoughts betrayed him, why his heart beat too quickly for him to breathe. Kuja didn't realize he was on his feet until he was clawing at the door. After all these years, he _had_ to get out. The voices, the words, he couldn't speak them and they were filling up inside him – years of _thoughts_ and _fears_ – and if they didn't come out, if they had nowhere to go – he wanted to scream but he _couldn't scream_. Kuja fell to his knees, dragging his nails desperately against the door. Without his words, no one would hear him. No one would come.

He was mute and alone with that _fear_ – that horrible, inexplicable fear that tore at his mind until nothing made sense and he _had to get out!_

Kuja scratched and clawed until blood ran down his fingers.

_;_

_"__I'm so sorry…" I whispered, though I had no idea what I was apologizing for. I reached out and gripped Kuja's cold hand._

_"__You aren't abandoned this time…"_

;

The moment the door opened, Kuja attacked. He didn't have his magic, but he still had his strength – a strength now fueled by terror. Kuja grabbed the head of the guard and slammed it down into the floor. Ther was an audible crack. In a blind panic, Kuja shoved Summoners against walls and strangled them until the light in their eyes was extinguished. He remembered racing through the streets, shoving over carts and wagons. At least two arrows plunged into his back. A burst of flames threw him to the ground. Someone seized his shoulders, and he kicked hard enough to snap their shinbone.

"Hold him down!"

Kuja threw his head back in a silent scream as a Thundaga blazed through his body. A familiar voice shouted in the distance.

"Stop! Please! You'll kill him!"

A knife plunged between his shoulder blades. The ground opened beneath him and he fell into the yawning chasm. Time and space flew through him - entire worlds passing in the blink of an eye. The voices in his head joined in a single mantra:

_Who am I?! I am the _Angel of Death_, and when I return to Gaia – with every open wound – I will destroy _everything_. I will bleed the Summoners until they shrivel like _weeds_, and drown their children in the corpses. I will crush the womens' ribs beneath my boots and scoop the pulverized hearts from their chests. I will rise as the Angel of Death, bathed in the blood of the Summoner tribe, and all who look upon me will know my wrath. When I take their souls, they will know whom they have wronged – each of them one by one, as I wipe all hope from existence._

Kuja collapsed against a cold, hard floor. The blue light was pulsing against his cheek. Black boots stepped into view. With the last of his strength, Kuja raised his head and looked up into the cold, disappointed eyes of his master. The master who _betrayed_ him and left him to _die_.

Then the blue light swallowed him away.

_;_

_"__Holy hell…"_

_"…__we were too late, weren't we?"_

_"__I don't know, but I don't see how – "_

_I felt warm fingers at my throat and a hand against my cheek. I tried to turn my face away from the heat._

_"__It's alright, kid…" someone whispered. "This one's alive, but he's got a massive infection, hypothermia... We gotta get him outta here."_

_"__What about the other – "_

_"__I'm checking," said another voice. "But I really don't think… with internal bleeding like this… What the hell _happened _to them?"_

_"__Mist monsters, probably…"_

_"__I'm not finding a pulse…"_

_"__No…!" The word burst from my throat. I squeezed Kuja's cold hand in desperation. "No, you're not… you're not…"_

_"__Shh…" The hand returned to my cheek. "It's okay, kid, we've got you…"_

_"__No," I sobbed. "Please…" I cracked my eyes open and saw Kuja beside me, as pale as the snow in his hair. The skin around his eyes had blackened as if he'd been punched. "Wake up, you pretentious bastard…"_

_"__We've _got _to go before the sun sets. The infection's already in his blood, he won't last another hour out here – "_

_"__I don't believe it…"_

_"__What?"_

_An unfamiliar man had pried Kuja's armor apart, revealing a chest that had turned almost completely purple. Black veins streaked away from the bruises. _

_"__How… how did they even make it this far?"_

_"__Shit… Damnit... If we'd just found them sooner, we – " The man jerked suddenly. Through the fog over my eyes, I could see his hand pressed gingerly against Kuja's blackened chest. The man leaned down and lay his other hand over the lower half of Kuja's face. His eyes widened._

_"__Impossible…"_

_"__He's alive?! That's – get him into the wagon – "_

_"__I've never seen someone alive with internal bleeding this severe. I'm afraid to move him…"_

_"__Well we can't just _leave _him here."_

_"__Lay him in the wagon with the kid – _carefully_. I'll make sure no one dies before we reach the village."_

_I was being lifted away from the snow. The movement was pure agony. I think I screamed. I probably screamed. Fire coursed through my veins, and Kuja's hand was wrenched away._

_I fell into a darkness so deep, even Kuja's dreams could no longer reach me. _

**A/N: Alright, that's all for chapter 3! Sorry this thing got trampled by a drama-llama. The next chapter's pretty angsty too, but I tried to insert**_**some**_**semblance of humor.**

**As always, comments and criticism are welcome! ^_^**


	4. Shattered

**A/N: I am soooo sorry about the formatting issues that were happening in the last few chapters – especially chapter 3. This is what happens when you x-post between AO3 and FFNet and don't double-check that everything carried over correctly. All the errors have been fixed, and will not be happening again.**

**Also, unlike the last chapter, there are some actual OCs in this one. Sorry. I know people aren't generally fond of OCs, but there was no way I could tell this entire story without inserting a few. I promise none of them will have any major roles – they just exist to move the story along before we get to the big stuff.**

**So… prepared for more angst? There was actually supposed to be an amusing scene in this chapter, but it ran too long and I had to push it into the next chapter. Sorry. Something to look forward to…?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy IX or any aspect of its franchise, real or hypothetical.**

**CHAPTER 4: SHATTERED**

_I don't know how long I drifted. Occasionally, I saw a gray sky passing overhead. Snow continued to fall and sting my cheeks. A couple times, I saw a concerned face haloed by gray light. The man would say something to me, but I couldn't understand him. I was no longer sure if I was myself, or a young man fleeing from the Summoner tribe. Where did my body end, and the dreams begin? The world never seemed to stop swaying._

"…_gonna have to take another path…"_

"…_can't believe this… damn this snow…"_

"…_not sure we'll – "_

"…_go on your own – "_

_Something warm and yellow brushed against my face. I blinked as the fuzzy haze snuffled at my hair._

"Kweh_."_

Yup, I'm dying… Can't believe it's the _chocobos _that guide us into the afterlife. I was hoping for horse-drawn carriages …

_I tried to swat away the bird as it started chewing on my hair. It nearly had my whole head in its mouth by the time someone shouted at it to let go. The chocobo pulled back with an annoyed warble. _

Oh, the indignity of it all._ That's what Kuja would say if he was still alive. Which he had to be, or else I'd kill him. Again. Somehow._

_Yeah, I don't remember much about any of that. Or anything after that. I remember throwing up on somebody, which sucked then, but is totally hilarious to me now. Sorry, guy-I-threw-up-on. It was nothing personal. I was grateful to black out for most of the journey._

_Unfortunately, the blackness meant dreaming._

;

He awoke on a cold table with a pair of dull, blue eyes gazing down at him. Kuja sat up, gasping. _I'm back…! _

"You should not get up," said the Genome. "Full blood volume has not been restored."

Kuja glanced down and saw an intravenous needle in the crook of his arm. This was not so unusual; Kuja was subjected to tests and experiments all the time. The Genome was feeding an iridescent, green chemical into the tube along with the blood.

"What is that?!" Kuja demanded.

The Genome blinked. "You should not sit up."

"It is my _choice_ to sit up," Kuja growled. "Just as it was your master's choice to send me to Gaia, and his decision to leave me in the hands of the Summoners. And one of these days, he might choose to end _your_ life."

"All living creatures die."

Kuja lashed out and grasped the Genome by the throat. It didn't even flinch. It didn't even _care_. Kuja shoved it angrily away.

"What did you put in my blood?!"

"I do not know. Based on your scans, I believe you will lose consciousness if you do not lie down."

"If I choose to sit up when I should not, it is at least my _own_ decision."

"That is illogical," said the Genome. "Your decision is incorrect."

Of course, the Genome was right, from a medical standpoint. They were always right, like walking computers with mechanical hearts. Kuja's head spun and he collapsed back onto the table. The blue light pulsed slowly overhead, even through the ceiling. He'd only been awake a couple minutes, yet already his heart beat in time with the light. He grit his teeth together.

_No…_

He'd been torn from one cell, only to be put back in another.

"I request a data transfer of the last two Gaian rotations."

Kuja's eyes darted towards his approaching master. "There is no important data to transfer," he muttered.

"All data is important."

"Had you remained with me," said Kuja. "No data transfer would be necessary."

His master paused. "In less than two rotations, you have been corrupted by the frailties of Gaia. Do not make me regret returning you. When you are fully recovered, you will be reset again."

"No!" Kuja sat up so abruptly, he nearly fainted. There was a rare and unexpected shadow of anger in his master's eyes. Kuja quickly backed down. "That… that won't be necessary…"

"That is not your decision to make. Your failure proves to me that you cannot be trusted with such a strong will. The experiment was a failure. Your will has returned."

_Yes, as everything around me _burned, Kuja thought angrily. The sudden emotion took him by surprise, and he struggled not to let it show on his face.

"I… I will not question you further," said Kuja, dropping his head. "As the experiment has failed, statistically speaking, it is unlikely to ever succeed. It would be a waste of energy and resources to reset me."

Kuja's master seemed to consider him for a moment. "I have been alive for many millennia, and I recognize the anger in your eyes."

Kuja glanced up, discomfited, as his master turned away. "You did not come for me." The words were unexpected, and Kuja bit down on his lip. His master halted, but did not turn around.

"No, I did not. You failed your mission."

"And so you left me."

"Yes."

Kuja's eyes narrowed. "The Summoners did not kill me. I can fight until my destruction. I cannot be defeated until I am dead."

"Yes, it is in your nature to fight until death, but you could not perform your duties from a cage. There is little time, and your errors were grievous. A machine can only operate at the capacity of its weakest component."

"I… I am not a machine…"

"…A miscalculation."

Kuja closed his eyes, hoping to shut out the blue light. "Then why bring me back at all?"

"I did not believe you would escape your cell," his master admitted. "Yet you fled the city, leaving a trail of chaos in your wake. _That_ is what I created you for, and the reason I gave you a soul. You are capable of irrational thought, which allows you to act in ways the Genomes will not. Your irrationality is the nature of chaos. Your strong will overwhelms you, however. That is why you must be reset. If you cannot reign in your emotions, then I will create someone who can."

"…You would discard me?" Kuja clenched his fists on the table.

"Yes. I desire a Genome with a strong mind, but I do not desire one with a defiant will. It seems I cannot repress one characteristic without rendering the other useless, so I must consider elimination."

A chill settled over Kuja. "…Who would be your Angel of Death? Who would destroy Gaia? There is no other here whom you can trust with your plans."

His master leveled him with a calculating stare. "I will have Zidane."

Kuja felt something inside him shatter. When he looked into his master's – no, _not_ his master's – eyes, he felt like a worm squirming beneath a boot. He glanced at the Genome who was replenishing the blood transfusion. The mindless drone simply worked, without question.

_He never feels fear, _Kuja thought, recalling the Genome's empty face as he was strangled. _There is no chaos inside him. His mind is a single, unified whole that cannot make war with itself. That is the source of his efficiency…_

In preparation for Kuja's advent to Gaia, Garland had performed several experiments. The mind wipe suppressed Kuja's will and ensured he would follow orders at maximum efficiently. Kuja had agreed to the test without question. He did not see any other way to crush the weakness inside him. His chaotic thoughts slowed his reactions and forced him to make unnecessary considerations. Efficiency was the key to his mission. Being reset returned him to his singular purpose, and Kuja understood the importance of absolute dedication to the goal. Each time he was reset, however, he felt pieces of himself slipping away. Garland had been pleased with the results. The suppression chiseled away at Kuja's individuality, bit by bit, honing him into a perfect weapon. The experiments were like an anesthetic, suppressing Kuja's will until it was a mere echo at the back of his mind.

Not once had the experiment succeeded.

Fragments of Kuja's will would surface like stones from a draining river – questions, doubts, _fears_ – all bursting forth in a surge of emotion. The experiment was a repeated failure, and without it, Kuja failed.

But the Genome… the drone… he did not hear conflicting thoughts in his head, did he? There was only the one voice, which could not disagree with itself. The Genome was _incapable_ of fear.

"I am fully dedicated to my mission," said Kuja, letting his head fall forward. "If my absolute compliance is necessary to correct my errors, than I… submit myself to another trial."

His master gazed at him quietly for a moment. "It is not as though you had a choice. I am pleased to see, however, that at last you understand what is best for you."

Kuja nodded beneath his hair. Garland waved his hand, and Kuja felt his mind – his _weakness_ – melting away. His already fractured thoughts shattered and sank into darkness. Everything was calm again. Kuja did not _need_ to question – he did not _need_ to doubt. He had no reason to fear anything, if there was nothing to protect. All his thoughts were focused on his one mission – his one purpose – and nothing could distract him.

Had Kuja been capable of experiencing happiness, he would have smiled as he let the silence descend upon him.

;

_I woke to an unfamiliar room with a fire crackling nearby. Everything was hazy. _

I must've died. What a nice chocobo, taking me to Heaven despite the skirt-chasing.

"_Chocobo?"_

Ah crap, did I say that out loud?

"_Yes? And what's this about skirt-chasing?"_

_With great difficulty, my eyes focused on a face – a young man with ruddy cheeks and a short beard._

"_You say the weirdest crap when you're sick," he muttered._

_My body suddenly remembered the whole "infected and dying" thing. I was _so_ gonna hurl._

"_You're _not_ dying." _

_I made an admittedly pitiful sound of rage. _Why is my mouth saying every damn thing I'm thinking?!

"_Because you're delirious. Also, don't stop, this is the best laugh I've had all week. I'll go get Shamila – "_

"_Wait…" _

_The man paused. "What?"_

"_Wh-what about…" I had just enough rational thought left to stop myself from saying Kuja's name. "What about my brother…?"_

"_He's your brother, eh? Guess I owe Evie a pie. She figured with the tails – but I said the hair color was too different…"_

_Consciousness was already slipping away. There was something very important that I was supposed to mention, but I couldn't remember… The man must've seen the internal struggle on my face because he shook his head and returned to my question._

"_Shamila's got a whole team treating your brother."_

"_W-will he… make it?" _

_The man scratched at his sandy, brown beard. "Shamila's one of the best White Mages alive. Villages as far as the Mountain Pass request her."_

That doesn't answer my question…_ I thought vaguely. _

_I must not have said _that_ part out loud because the man gave me a condescending pat on the arm and left the room. I sank back into the pillows and wondered who led the _chocobos_ into the afterlife. _

Probably Moogles… those little bastards…

;

It was obvious now, where he had gone wrong. Kuja had gone to Gaia with knowledge, but not _experience_. His master agreed with his logic, and so Kuja was given leave to travel to Gaia for research. It took nearly a full Gaian day before Kuja was able to break the magical seal on the Shimmering Island. He would have to increase the intensity of his magical training if he wished to move between worlds as his master did.

For nearly a month, Kuja explored the new planet, from sprawling deserts to the marshy swamps. He walked along the edges of quicksand on the Outer Continent, and explored the ruins of a lost people. By far the most fascinating part of Gaia, however, was the Mist Continent. It was a disjointed and chaotic place – completely nonsensical by all the laws of nature. Though Kuja had studied it from the crystals, it was still vastly more incredible in real life. Every climate, every beast, every Gaian race imaginable inhabited a single land mass. Dark forests crawling with monsters sprouted right beside bright, bustling cities. Caverns of ice tunneled beneath warm grass. In Burmecia, it never stopped raining, and in Treno, there was eternal night. It was as if the continent had been sewn together by a madman. Kuja believed this chaos was due to the Mist being pumped across the land. Did the Gaians not realize what they were breathing?

The planet was overwhelming. Kuja did not understand the Gaians, nor could he predict what they would say or do. Even after they spoke or observed certain customs, Kuja could not possibly say _why_ they did it. He refused to give up, however. If he was going to destroy these people, he had to think the way they did. He had to know what Jane's words meant, or else the Summoners might make a fool of him again.

Jane believed he was afraid of the night, so Kuja went first to Treno, where the night would never cease. He wandered through the streets, trying to determine the purpose of the ornate buildings and colorful clothing. He stopped outside a particularly decadent establishment where a woman greeted him in a sparkling dress. She wanted him to come inside for some reason. When Kuja asked her if the decadent building was some sort of church, she laughed so hard she started crying.

"Honey, if the girls help you find God, make sure you pay 'em double."

Kuja walked away. He had no time for these Gaian riddles.

There were several buildings where Gaians played cards with the intensity of a battle. It seemed they would receive money for winning. Kuja was starting to realize that money meant a lot to these people. Even food and drink required a trade for money. Kuja had no idea how the Gaians received money in the first place, so he decided to find out. In a dirtier part of town, Kuja found an old man sitting against a wall with a hat full of coins. The man was clearly starving, with milky, blind eyes. Kuja took his money and walked away.

Gaians seemed to gather in drinking establishments, but Kuja could not figure out why there had to be designated locations for a basic necessity. Was there something wrong with the rivers?

Kuja entered a so-called "bar" and stood in the doorway for awhile, unsure what to do. A man sitting at the end of the counter near the door asked Kuja if he was "alright in the head."

Baffled, Kuja reached up towards his face to see if anything was wrong. The man laughed and told him to take the seat beside him. Kuja saw no reason not to, so he sat down on the rather uncomfortable contraption. Its shape reminded him of the tall, mushroom-shaped trees that loomed over Terra. The owner of the drinking establishment asked him what he wanted, so Kuja poured all his money out of his satchel and onto the counter.

"How much is required for trade?"

The owner gave him a strange look. "Uh… not _that_ much…"

The one who asked Kuja to join him was chuckling behind his hand. "Get him a tonberry tonic, eh, would ya Benny?"

The owner looked unsure, but went to retrieve the drink. The man at Kuja's side put his elbows on the counter and gave him a look that seemed… amused, perhaps? He was a fairly young man – perhaps between eighteen and twenty-one – with feathery blond hair and a scar running down the left side of his face.

"I'm gonna venture a guess you ain't from around here?"

"No, I am not," Kuja agreed.

"I'd say you were some rich nobleman from across the waters, but yer dressed like a stable boy."

"I…" Kuja tried to discern the meaning of the statement. "I am not a nobleman," he said at last.

"But you _are_ rich."

"What do you mean?"

"The money." The blond man prodded at the pile of coins on the counter. "What'd ya do to get all _this_ if ya ain't rich? I'm hopin' it's got nothin' to do with yer looks… Yer better than that, kid."

"I took the money from a hat."

"…a hat?"

"Yes. An elderly man was sitting with a hat full of money. I took it."

The blond stared at Kuja for several seconds, then burst out laughing.

"Oh man, that's… you robbed a _homeless man?!_ That is _fantastic_. What's yer name, kiddo?"

"Kuja."

"I'm Leutwin. Nice ta meet ya." Leutwin held out his hand for some reason. Kuja stared at it, so Leutwin snorted and took it back. "Where the hell _are_ ya from?"

"…far away," said Kuja.

Leutwin began ticking off words on his fingers. "Ya don't know how to order a drink, ya don't know how to use money, and ya steal from homeless men. You must be from the _moon_ or somethin'."

Kuja was understandably surprised. "How did you know?"

Leutwin stared at Kuja for a moment before laughing so hard he had to bite his fist. "You… Wow… I can't tell if you're kidding or not."

Kuja had no idea why Leutwin was laughing. Nothing he'd said constituted the Gaian definition of "funny."

Kuja's drink arrived a moment later, and Benny counted the appropriate money from the pile. The tonberry tonic had a strange, bitter taste that reminded Kuja of the chemicals used to preserve specimens in the lab. He stuck his finger in the mug and sniffed at the liquid, trying to discern what it was made of. Leutwin was looking at him strangely.

"It's just _alcohol_, kid. Don't they have alcohol on the moon?!"

"…No."

"Geez, no wonder ya came to the Town of Temptation." Leutwin rested his chin on his hands. "I'm diggin' the feathers. Those things sewn in or somethin'?"

Kuja reached up and touched one of his white feathers. "They grow that way." Truthfully, he had no idea why he had feathers, and had never questioned his master about it.

"Alright, cool. Ya got some bird blood in ya. Maybe yer related to the queen."

"Leutwin…" Benny was giving the blond a pointed look. Leutwin nodded, and something like worry passed over his eyes. Kuja wasn't sure what the blond might be concerned about.

"I know, I know…" Leutwin scratched his head as he scrutinized Kuja. "Should probably get him to a doctor or somethin'…"

"You think he's got amnesia?" Benny leaned forward to speak with Leutwin in private. It was rather pointless. Kuja's senses were far more advanced than a Gaian's, and he could hear every word.

"Dunno." The blond frowned. "He's got some nasty cuts and stuff. Almost look like burns, don't they?"

"Maybe he's from one of the fighting rings."

"They musta done a _number_ on him, then… Plus, doesn't he look a little _young_ for the rings? He's, like, sixteen…"

"I've heard cases where people get hit too hard on the head," said Benny. "Knocks all the thoughts and memories right out of 'em. People find the poor bastards wanderin' around days later with no idea who they are."

Leutwin scrubbed his eyes and made a groaning noise. "Okay, well, the little humanity I got left in me can't just leave the loony stumblin' around stealin' from hobos. Ya think if I show 'im around, he might get his bearings?"

Truthfully, Kuja very much desired a local guide. "That would be beneficial."

"Do you have _any_ idea where ya need to go?" asked Leutwin.

Kuja found the question baffling. He was not on any particular mission. He shook his head.

"Hoo boy." Leutwin scratched at his head again. "Maybe I'll take ya to the guard station. Maybe somebody's lookin' for ya…"

Kuja thought back on all he knew about Gaia. "Do you not wish for payment in exchange for your services?"

Benny coughed and Leutwin's cheeks turned red. "Uh… I'm not, uh… into that sorta thing…"

"Pardon?"

"Okay… You have no idea what I'm talkin' about. 'Course you don't. Okay, look, kid, I don't need anything from you. I'm just tryin' to help."

"Does help not usually require payment?"

Leutwin looked troubled by this statement. "I'm just bein' a friend, kid."

Jane's words echoed in the back of Kuja's mind. _"Love and friendship." _It would be in Kuja's best interests to learn those concepts, if they were so important to the Gaian people.

"Yer not plannin' to rob the poor bastard, are ya?" asked Benny, putting his hands on the counter to loom over Leutwin. The blond snorted.

"I came into a pretty hefty sum o' money yesterday. I got no reason to steal from some kid. An' even if I did, the guy's got bird feathers and a tail. Would _you_ wanna gamble on somethin' like that?"

Benny's expression darkened further. "How did you come by this 'hefty sum o' money?'"

"Gamblin'," said Leutwin, climbing down off his stool. "What else?"

"Hrm…" Benny frowned. "Just… be careful, alright?"

"Ain't I always?"

"No." Benny's frown deepened. "Almost never, in fact."

"Yeah, I know." Leutwin rolled his eyes. "I was just bullshittin'. C'mon, kiddo, finish up yer drink and let's see if we can figure out where yer supposed to go."

Kuja didn't think he was _supposed_ to go anywhere, but he drank the last of his tonberry tonic and silently followed Leutwin out of the bar.

;

"_W-wait…" I reached out and grasped the arm of the woman who'd been peering down at me. She looked like someone important – like some wizened, middle-aged lady who hits kids with rulers but turns them into, like, professional scholars or whatever._

"_Are you alright?" the woman asked me._

_There was something… something important I was supposed to mention, but it was already slipping away._

"_Qu-question…" My throat felt like it was on fire – no, scratch that, _everything_ felt like it was on fire. Maybe I _was_ on fire._

"_Yes?"_

"_Is it… is it possible to share someone's dreams…?"_

_The woman moved closer. I think she sat down on the bed, though I could've been flying on the back of a Grand Dragon for all I knew. "I beg your pardon?"_

"_Dreams…" I rasped. "Can… can you share somebody's dreams…?"_

"_Are _you_ sharing someone's dreams?"_

"_M-maybe…?"_

"_You're suffering from an illness," said the woman. "Your dreams may be strange."_

"_N-no…" I shook my head weakly. I felt so gross and sweaty and embarrassed. "I mean, like… I see someone's memories… but… they're not mine… s'like, stuff I shouldn't know…"_

"_They are probably delusions, child. They're not real."_

"_They _are_…" I insisted. "They're real – I _know_ they're real…"_

"_He's delirious," said a voice nearby._

_The woman ignored the speaker and narrowed her eyes. "Whose dreams do you see, child?"_

"_M-my brother's…"_

_The woman furrowed her brows. "I see."_

"'_m crazy…?"_

"_No, you're sick," said the woman, pulling away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to tend to the others."_

"'_kay…" I closed my eyes and made a weak attempt at a joke. "Don't kill anybody…"_

_The woman paused at the door. "I could ask the same of your brother."_

_My brain was too garbled to register why I should be concerned by that statement._

;

"So then ya switch the cards like this – " Leutwin did some subtle motion with his hands. "And voila! That's how ya cheat at Tetra Master."

Kuja peered down at the cards. "I do not believe that is real magic."

Leutwin snorted. "No, of course not, although the people ya cheat might start to think so."

"I do not see why this is cheating," Kuja admitted.

"Uh… 'cause it's against the rules?"

"But it is a game," said Kuja. "Shouldn't the player with the best strategy win?"

"Ah, it doesn't quite work that way, kiddo." Leutwin swept up the cards and tapped them into a neat stack on the table. "People _like_ rules, y'know? It keeps everything fair when ya put boundaries on people's skills. Otherwise some people would _never_ win."

"Couldn't _those_ people cheat?"

"Hah!" Leutwin laughed. "I like the way you think."

Kuja felt extremely confused. "Is my line of thinking unusual?"

"Actually…" Leutwin frowned. "No, not really. _All_ people secretly care more about winning than fairness, they just won't admit it – 'specially in _this_ city." He nodded towards the fighting ring on the other side of the room. Two women in torn clothing were in the midst of battle. They pulled each other's hair and bit each other's skin like animals. Around the ring, men in cleaner clothing passed money around and shouted encouragement to the fighters.

"Rich people treat us like livestock," said Leutwin. "They keep us under their boots so we can't make money the fair way. That's why _I_ cheat. I mean, how can ya worry about righteousness when yer starvin'?"

"Self-preservation," Kuja agreed. He was finding the conversation… he supposed the Gaians might describe it as "interesting." He felt he might learn more from this boy than he had from the crystals. The most stimulating part of the conversation was that, unlike the crystals, Leutwin was willing to challenge supposed facts – to "argue." It made for a more well rounded discussion than merely absorbing unsupported information.

"Hey, yer learnin'!" Leutwin lightly punched Kuja in the shoulder. "Only took ya…" Leutwin glanced at a clock on the wall. "Holy tits it's late. Damnit, we crossed half the city and still ain't gotten ya home. I think the search is gonna have to wait until morning. How long you been up? Newcomers tend to lose track a time in this city,with the lack of daylight."

Kuja had spent his whole life in a city with neither day nor night, so he was hardly concerned. He wasn't sure he understood Leutwin's words, however. "How long have I been _up?_"

"Awake."

"Ah. I have been awake for probably two days."

Leutwin made a high-pitched sound through his lips. "You should sleep. This ain't the kinda city ya wanna crash and burn in. People will take advantage of you _real_ quick."

"I do not know where the people of Treno sleep," Kuja admitted. On Terra, Kuja preferred to sleep alone. There were pods in the underground tunnels where all the Genomes retreated at the exact same time each rotation. Kuja preferred not to join them in their clockwork ritual. He could only sleep when it was his own decision. Whenever he was tired, he retreated to an unused tunnel on the edge of town where the blue light did not seem to reach.

"Uh, people sleep in all kinds a places," said Leutwin. "But usually travelers make accommodations. I assume you didn't make reservations at an inn or somethin'?"

"I did not know how," Kuja admitted.

Leutwin nodded in a way that Kuja thought looked sad. "Right. Of course ya didn't. Well, I can't letcha sleep with the bums. Come back to my place. My brother sleeps in the bed, but the floor ain't so bad."

Kuja followed Leutwin to a new part of Treno. They made two stops on the way. First, they went to a strange shop filled with colorful vials and powders. Kuja wanted to ask Leutwin what they were, but the blond grabbed a blue bottle and paid for it so quickly, they left the store before Kuja could say a word. After that, they went to some kind of bakery, where Leutwin picked up a whole bag of food. He looked extremely pleased.

As they continued their journey, Treno started to fall apart around them. The decadent mansions shrank until they were no longer what the Gaian's defined as "houses." There were many Gaians sleeping in the streets, draped in dirty rags that were crawling with bugs. "The slums," as Leutwin called them, were a labyrinth of watery canals and rickety bridges. Broken ladders linked some of the dilapidated shacks. The smell was unpleasant, reminding Kuja of the flesh of a dead animal.

Suddenly, Leutwin grabbed Kuja by the arm and pulled him behind a massive heap of garbage. Assuming he was being attacked, Kuja prepared to fight. He stayed his hand, however, when he saw the fear in Leutwin's eyes.

"Shh." The blond held a finger to his lips. "Stay down. Don't let them hear ya."

Kuja had no idea what Leutwin was afraid of. From his crouched position, Kuja craned his neck and saw the heads of several men passing by. They were talking in raised voices.

" – find that son of a bitch."

"I _know_ he lives here. I've seen 'im myself, right in this area, cheatin' people outta their coins."

"If we don't find him soon, Brennen's gonna have us fired…"

"_Fired?!_ He'll have us put in jail or _murdered_."

"C'mon, pick up the pace!"

"We bribe enough people in this shithole, we'll have 'em singin' like canaries."

Eventually, the heads disappeared and the sound of footsteps faded. Leutwin released the breath he'd been holding.

"Sorry… Those guys are, uh… lookin' for me. I didn't want you gettin' involved."

"Why do they look for you?" asked Kuja, rising to his feet and peering in the direction the men had gone.

"Well…" Leutwin stood up and scratched the back of his neck. "Remember what I said about takin' that money from the old man's hat?"

"Yes." Kuja nodded. "When money is given to someone, it belongs to them by the rules of possession. The money in the hat belonged to the old man, and by taking it, I was 'stealing.'"

"Yeah… 'bout that… " Leutwin wouldn't meet Kuja's eyes. "Stealing is wrong, but… doesn't mean people don't do it. You remember that auction house we passed?"

"Yes." It was a massive building of white stone, guarded on all sides like a fortress.

"That's Lord Brennen's auction house. He's the richest man in the city. I _may_ have gotten involved with some bad men… and _maybe_ helped them stage a heist… which ended with us stealin' _a lot_ of money from Lord Brennen."

Kuja was surprised to hear this after Leutwin had admonished him so thoroughly for stealing from the old man.

"Why did you steal from Lord Brennen if it is against the city's rules?"

Leutwin sighed sadly. "Every man's got his price, Kuja."

They continued through the slums, until the gutter water ran a sickly brown. Beneath the canal was a rundown, wooden shack that was so tiny, Kuja did not believe they could stand fully inside it. The door was nothing more than a soiled cloth.

"Sorry. I know it ain't much…" Leutwin flipped the curtain aside and gestured for Kuja to enter. "But trust me, it's better than bein' out on the streets, where you can get mugged or stabbed or raped."

"Raped?"

"I'll tell ya when yer older."

Kuja's head did, indeed, brush the ceiling inside the shack. He glanced around and found that the interior looked no better than the outside. The warped walls were rotting in places, and there was a brown puddle on the floor where the canal leaked through. A single wooden partition separated another room in the shack with a cloth hanging over it.

"Uh… make yerself at home, I guess," said Leutwin, gesturing to the floor and setting down the food. "And help yerself. It's on the house – er, shack. Don't worry, I got clean blankets. That was the first thing I bought with Brennen's money. And the next order a business is gettin' a home that isn't likely to collapse."

Leutwin disappeared into the other room while Kuja pondered the curiosity that was the Gaian people. Their every necessity was dictated by money, even if it meant some necessities – such as food – could not be acquired. Some people had more money than others, but Kuja was unsure why. Perhaps it had to do with who was best at stealing, even if stealing was illegal.

"…sorry, Safi, I'm back…" A voice drifted from the other side of the partition. Kuja was surprised – he hadn't realized there was someone else in the shack.

"…brought some back. The old hag by the red bridge swore it would help…"

Wishing to know whom he would be sharing the sleeping area with, Kuja moved over to the curtain and pulled it aside. Leutwin was on his knees beside a lumpy cot covered in stains. Almost buried beneath a pile of blankets was a young boy, no older than nine. Kuja did not need to research more than basic diagnostics to know the child – presumably Safi – was sick. In contrast to Leutwin's blond hair, Safi's was red and damp around his face. The boy's skin was also a sickly yellow. Safi's glassy eyes floated in his sunken sockets. Leutwin gently held Safi's head up and tilted the blue bottle into his mouth. The boy choked on it slightly, but Leutwin held him until he swallowed. Then he laid the child back down on the cot and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw Kuja standing there, a sad look passed over his face.

"Every man's got his price…"

"Who is this boy?" asked Kuja.

"My brother," said Leutwin. "Don't deserve 'im, though. Been doin' a shitty job bein' his brother."

"…s'not your fault…" Safi murmured. "You've done… b-best you could… since Mom died…"

Leutwin sighed and stood up. "My best ain't been good enough. But I got money now, and I'm gonna get ya to a proper doctor, y'hear me?"

Kuja didn't understand. If money was required for food, and Leutwin was starving, then why did he spend it on his dying brother? All living creatures died – did it truly matter when?

"_You took away the years they could have spent with their families. There was so much laughter they were meant to experience – so much joy."_

Kuja pondered Jane's words. Gaians, it seemed, placed immeasurable value on the amount of time they spent experiencing their lives with others. Kuja wondered what fueled that desire. There must have been some benefit to spending time with family, but Kuja could not fathom what it could be –

His eyes fell on the blue bottle, and suddenly, he had an idea. It was for _protection_. Yes, that had to be it. Family members increased their safety in numbers. Safi was too sick to get medicine himself, but his _family_ could get it for him. Yes, Kuja understood this now. This was logical. He also understood that Leutwin considered him a friend, and under the Gaian definition of "friend," he was meant to treat Leutwin like a subset of "family." If Leutwin's purpose was to protect his brother, then Kuja, by extension, was meant to protect Safi for Leutwin.

Pleased with his analysis, Kuja approached the cot and lowered himself to his knees. Leutwin grasped his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey, whadd'ya think yer doing?"

"I am versed in some forms of white magic," said Kuja. "There are limitations, however. White magic has no effect upon disease, infection, or illness. Your brother is severely jaundiced, but my magic can repair some of the damage to his liver."

Leutwin's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Why would I not be serious…?"

"Ah, forget it, buddy, do yer thing! Please, we're pretty desperate…"

Kuja nodded and held his hands over Safi's body. A soft glow webbed between his fingers and settled upon the child's chest. Leutwin watched in amazement as Kuja focused his magic. After nearly ten minutes, the yellow began to recede from Safi's skin. The child looked no less sickly, of course, but he no longer looked like he would die at any moment. Leutwin's eyes were shiny, and a single tear slipped down his cheek. Kuja had no idea why Leutwin would cry when Kuja had healed his brother. Was family not as important to Gaians as he'd assumed?

"Have I done something wrong?"

"What? No?" Leutwin shook his head and kneeled down beside his brother. More tears ran down his cheeks as he brushed his fingers through Safi's red hair. "No, Kuja, you… you probably saved his life…"

"But you are crying…"

"With _joy_," said Leutwin, pressing his forehead to his brother's. "Don't you understand _anything?_ You gave my brother back to me…"

Kuja wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He had done his duty as a friend, so he supposed he should feel some sense of victory. Safi's hazy eyes rose to meet Kuja's, and the child gave him a faint smile.

"Thank you, sir…" he whispered.

Kuja nodded, unsure of the proper response. He was surprisingly content with Safi's acknowledgement. Leutwin grinned up at Kuja with watery eyes.

"You must be some guardian angel or somethin'. Maybe it was the fall to Gaia that busted yer head and scrambled yer brains." Laughing, Leutwin stood up and clapped a hand on Kuja's shoulder. "Tomorrow, I'm gonna take ya to the best damn restaurant in town. On me."

Kuja was surprised to find he was actually… looking forward to sharing more experiences with Leutwin. Perhaps he would come to understand the concept of "friendship" after all.

;

"_Should we tell him…?"_

"_No, he is too incoherent."_

"_So you wanna wait until it's too late? What if he knows something we don't?!"_

"_I cannot overwhelm him until he is recovered."_

"_But that's his _brother!_"_

"_We will speak no more of this."_

"…_yes, ma'am." _

"_Shamila, they found more travelers in the snow – "_

"_How many?"_

"_Three, but… one has already passed on. The other two have severe frostbite. We may need to amputate – "_

"_I see. I will be there in a moment…"_

"_We sent out another search party, but I'm worried about how many people are still stranded out there. There's no way we can rescue them all…"_

"_It can't be helped. We are but one village, and there are too many traders caught in the Mist. These are the dregs of war, I'm afraid. This is what happens when greedy men stand so high above their games they cannot see the faces of the players."_

"_Well, Queen Brahne's dead, so that's somethin'. We can only hope her lunatic advisor went down with her. What was his name again?"_

"_Kuja."_

"_Yeah, that guy. Let's hope he's dead." _

"_There is little hope these days, my friend."_

;

"…and Stella's the queen," Leutwin explained as they strolled past an ornate fountain. "She's a right bitch."

"What is a bitch?"

"I'll tell ya when yer older. Ah, here's the place!"

The store was cramped with seemingly every clothing component possible. The shopkeeper was a woman in her mid-thirties wearing a low-cut red dress with purple lace along the collar. She gave them a bored look before returning to her duties.

"See, this stuff ain't what the nobles really wear," said Leutwin. "'Cause _real_ rich people don't _buy_ clothes. They get some snotty asshole to come and take their measurements and basically sew the clothes right on 'em. But the stuff in this store is still 'in style,' y'know? It'll keep ya from standin' out so badly."

Leutwin began pushing his way through the forest of clothes. "C'mon, let's pick out somethin' nice. I got a lotta dough, and a guy like you's gotta look stylish."

Kuja touched the fabric of a silky, white shirt. "Stylish?"

"Yeah, y'know, 'trendy,' or whatever. You look like the kinda guy the nobles _worship_, so with the right clothing, they'd pretty much drop dead at yer feet."

Kuja furrowed his brows. Most of the sentence was nonsense, so he picked out the only part he'd slightly understood. "Why would nobles worship me? I am not a god."

Leutwin raised an eyebrow at Kuja. "…Seriously? You've _never_ had girls climbin' all over you with that pretty face? Is it 'cause of the hair? That hair would make _any_ girl jealous."

Kuja had absolutely no idea what Leutwin was talking about. "I was made this way."

"Yeah, um, I don't need the details, buddy." Leutwin patted Kuja on the shoulder. Kuja was surprised to find that he didn't mind. He did not suspect at any moment that Leutwin meant to harm him. It was dangerous to let his guard down amongst the Gaians, but for some reason, Kuja did not feel the need to be on guard around the boy.

"Why don't you try on that shirt?" asked Leutwin. "You seem to like the fabric."

Kuja glanced down at the shirt he'd been touching. It had long sleeves that expanded at the ends like bells. Kuja thought it looked highly impractical, but Leutwin encouraged him to put it on anyways. Since Kuja had no idea what he was expected to wear on Gaia, Kuja took the shirt into the "fitting room" at the back of the store. When he stepped out wearing the shirt, Leutwin made a whistling sound again.

"Kuja… it's a damn shame you ain't a lady, because lemme be the first to tell ya, you look _fabulous_."

Kuja wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a good thing or not, but he was willing to trust Leutwin's judgment.

"Alrighty, put yer ugly clothes back on. We'll have the shopkeeper hold on to the shirt while we find some other stuff to go with it. I really wanna ask her if she's got these babies – " Leutwin held up a pair of pants covered in zebra stripes. " – in another size, but it looks like she's busy." The woman in the red dress was speaking with some customers near the front of the store. Leutwin sighed impatiently. "This could take awhile."

Kuja went back into the dressing room, removed the shirt with the bell sleeves, and put on his own Terran garb. It was strange, seeing his own reflection in a mirror. He'd seen his reflection in the motionless water of Terra, but the image in the mirror was crystal clear. Kuja did not understand why one outfit was supposed to be more appropriate on him than another. Did he, himself, look any different regardless? Kuja frowned at his reflection and reached up to touch the feathers in his hair. He truly did not look like the other Genomes. Kuja wondered at the purpose of the discrepancy in his appearance. It was a meaningless train of thought, he decided. His mission was to research Gaia. Questioning himself was not beneficial.

When Kuja stepped out of the dressing room, Leutwin had disappeared into the store. Still holding the silk shirt, Kuja circled around to try and find him. Leutwin was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was trying on the zebra-print pants after all. The shopkeeper was eyeing Kuja in a way that made him feel uneasy.

"Yer friend stepped out," she said finally. "Don't think he'll be comin' back neither."

Kuja blinked. "Why?"

The woman in the red dress snorted. "I value my life, kid. I wouldn't _dream_ of lyin' to Lord Brennen."

Kuja felt cold. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at him.

"You gonna pay for that shirt or what?"

Kuja placed the shirt on the counter and turned away. "No."

Leutwin was not outside the store. Kuja stretched his senses and began to hunt. To his left, a man whispered to his companion of a group of "thugs." Farther down, Lord Brennen's name came from the mouth of an old woman selling pickles. Down an alley was a scuffmark that hadn't been there before. Kuja continued to hunt until he heard familiar voices. Behind an abandoned shop with broken windows, Kuja spotted three men in casual armor. At their feet, in a puddle of blood, Leutwin was staring into the night sky. His eyes were glassy. Reflected by the twin moons, Kuja could see the tears drying on his pale cheeks. Blood ran from the boy's neck and mixed with the sewer water beneath his body.

One of the men glanced over his shoulder and snorted when he saw Kuja. "Who's _this_ pretty boy?"

The other two men turned around as well. "The hell you lookin' at, kid?" one of them demanded. "Get outta here."

Kuja stared at Leutwin's body. _All living beings die. It does not matter when._

One of the killers licked Leutwin's blood from his dagger. "You got some awfully pretty eyes, kid." He prowled towards Kuja, tossing the blade between his hands. "It's too bad I'm gonna have to remove 'em. They've seen a bit too much, eh? They might make some nice trophies for display, though."

Kuja watched the man's approach in silence.

"He's got a prettier face than the wenches turnin' tricks at Pixie Palace," said one of the killer's comrades. "You think he'd scream the same if I did to him what I do to them?"

Kuja felt an unfamiliar feeling – almost like pain – that localized like a knife in his chest. The man with the dagger was reaching out to touch his face.

There was a scream, and then all three men were on fire. Kuja watched in silence as they shrieked and cursed and flailed. The skin peeled from their faces and their shadows danced against the flickering alley walls. Kuja didn't speak as their scalps melted back from their skulls. The men bucked and twisted on the ground like worms being stuck with pins. Only when the last man had stopped twitching did Kuja wave his hand and dispel the flames. The killers were nothing more than blackened husks. Their hands curled into claws, and their skulls gaped in muted screams. Leutwin's body, too, had been burned away in the pyre. Kuja could hear footsteps approaching. He calmly plucked the blade from the charred hand of the killer and watched the ashen fingers blow into the wind. Then he teleported back to the clothing store, grabbed the sobbing shopkeeper by the hair, and forced her back over the counter. Kuja held her head down with one hand while he dragged the knife across her throat with the other. Hot blood ran over his fingers. Kuja etched the image of her wheezing death throes in his mind, to gaze upon whenever he desired.

Then Kuja was walking in the direction of the slums. He didn't think about where he was going. Even when he entered the dilapidated shack, Kuja did not question why he had returned. Pushing aside the curtain to Safi's room, he did not have a single thought when he saw the bloodstained mattress. The wound across Safi's throat looked like a smile.

It wasn't until Kuja stepped outside and saw the blood on his own hands that he began to think.

_I will kill Lord Brennen_, he decided, smearing his fingers down his face to smell the wet copper. Perhaps it was an irrational decision, but it felt right. Kuja saw no reason not to do it, and the voices in his head – his doubts and worries – murmured in agreement. An image began to form in his mind, fractured and broken, but nonetheless crystal clear. Blood was flooding the streets of Gaia, with corpses swept along the current in a raging river of death.

_After I kill Lord Brennen, _thought Kuja._ I will wear his skin as a shirt._

;

"_Zidane…?" _

_Someone was calling out to me, but why would they know my name? _Seems awfully suspicious… probably a scam or somethin'…

"_Zidane – that's his name, right?"_

"_That's what he said, the one time I was able to slap some actual words outta him."_

"_Zidane, c'mon…"_

_Someone was shaking my shoulder. I moaned as the movement rattled my brains._

"_C'mon, kid, you gotta wake up…"_

"_He seems a _little_ coherent."_

"_Are you kidding?"_

"_Well, he moaned."_

"_That is _hardly_ what I'd call coherency!"_

_The shaking resumed. I tossed my head to the side and croaked out a string of curse words. The hand on my shoulder paused._

"_Zidane? You with us?"_

"_He's _gotta_ be, with that kinda language."_

"_Wh-what… you want…?" I moaned._

_Whoever was speaking lightly patted my cheek. "You gotta help us, buddy."_

"_Wh… what…"_

"_Zidane, we need information about your brother."_

_I laughed weakly. "…tell ya… he's a… crazy bastard…"_

"_Hah. This kid's a regular comedian."_

"_Shut up. Zidane, focus." Someone gripped my face. "Something is wrong and nobody knows what it is. Shamila says you've been seein' visions – that you think you're sharin' dreams with your brother."_

"…'_s so lame…" I muttered. "Brother's… crazy bastard… burning people up, s'like… the hell, man…?"_

_The hand on my face gave me a light smack. "Snap out of it, buddy. You need to tell us what the hell your brother is." _

_I squeezed my eyes shut. "…what?"_

"_Somethin' seriously weird is goin' on, kid. Might explain why you're 'sharin' his dreams' or whatever."_

That_ finally got my eyes to open, but everything was so blurry, it didn't really matter. _

"_What… what's going on…?"_

"_That's what _we_ want to know."_

"_Maybe Shamila was right. Maybe we should bring the brother in here."_

"_We can't move him the way he is! That guy's barely being held together by string!"_

"_You got a better idea?! I'm as freaked out as you are! The only person who might know what's goin' on is this kid, and he's got goddamned mashed potatoes for brains!"_

"…_s'not nice…" I mumbled. _

"_Zidane, please, we're doin' this to _save_ your brother. If you want him to live, you gotta _wake up!_"_

Wake up…?_ Darkness was creeping in from the edges of my mind, like the darkness of the Dark City Treno_.

Wake up from_ what…?_

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Or, I guess, I hope you enjoy reading the story, not the stuff happening in it. Will this story get nicer at any point? Don't change the channel – more to come!**

**Comments and criticism welcome! **


	5. The God of War

**A/N: This chapter is probably the most important chapter of the entire fic. It is also the darkest. **

**The calmest sea precludes the blackest storm.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy IX.**

**CHAPTER 5: THE GOD OF WAR**

He was toddling after the Genomes again. The little boy had a knack for being in everyone's way, so Kuja did his best to avoid him. He imagined the other Genomes would as well, if it didn't require additional brainpower. Even now, while a Genome was carting supplies along the outskirts of the city, the little boy was tottering behind. The Genome was either unaware of the child, or simply didn't care.

Sitting in the branches of a scraggly tree, Kuja munched on one of its bloody fruits and watched. Did Garland truly believe an Angel of Death would grow more effectively if born a child? For goodness' sake, the boy was so tiny he could barely walk. Kuja watched in irritation as Zidane attempted to leap onto the back of the cart and fell on his face. Kuja rolled his eyes the way the Gaians did when they were annoyed by something.

_He's completely useless…!_

As the Genome passed beneath the tree, a fruit dropped in the path of the cart. The front wheel ruptured it like an organ. The toddler stopped following the cart and glanced skyward.

"Kuja?"

_Go away…_ Kuja ignored the child. Something far more interesting was happening in the trees below. A Silver Dragon was drinking from a small, glowing pond in the underbrush. It was extremely small for a dragon – a juvenile not yet half its adult size. Kuja admired the sleek, elegant curves of its wings. Powerful muscles rippled beneath its pale skin.

_How nice it must be, to be able to fly…_

"Kuja, can you teach me to climb a tree?"

Unable to ignore Zidane any longer, Kuja glanced down with an irritated expression on his face. "Why would you need to learn such a thing?"

"You learned to do it."

Kuja took a bite of fruit and felt the red juices trickle down his chin. The fruit was bitterer here than on Gaia, and Kuja found he missed strawberries.

"Most monsters cannot reach the tops of trees," said Kuja.

Zidane blinked. Very little separated him from the other empty-headed Genomes. It sickened Kuja to think he had once been the same.

"Dragons can fly."

_Argumentative little thing, aren't you?_ "Yes, _wingless_ monsters cannot reach the tops of trees." Kuja took another bite of fruit. The Silver Dragon crouched down to watch him. Its tail whipped back and forth in agitation, but Kuja was not concerned. From time to time, Silver Dragons dragged Genomes into the forest, but Kuja was sure the dragon could sense his magic. Besides, the hatchling was far too small to challenge him in a battle. Kuja wondered if Silver Dragons were trainable. They were incredibly willful creatures, but perhaps if it was still young …

"Why does it matter if monsters cannot climb trees?"

Kuja ground his teeth in annoyance at Zidane's incessant questions. "If you are in a tree, and the monster cannot climb the tree, then it cannot attack you."

The idea that a monster could attack him had obviously never occurred to Zidane. He looked faintly surprised, which was more emotion than he was usually capable of showing. "Monsters attack other monsters because they eat them."

"Yes, and they can eat _you_, too."

Zidane looked doubtful. "Monsters live in forests. They do not enter the city."

Kuja reached into the small satchel at his side and pulled out the thick, bloody heart of an Amadusias. Below, the Silver Dragon raised its head and quivered hungrily. Kuja could feel the dragon's black, hollow eyes upon him. Killing the Amadusias had been an excuse to test out new spells, but Kuja had kept a few pieces. You never knew when you might need some spare organs lying around.

"Nothing exists in absolutes, Zidane," said Kuja. "Let that be the greatest lesson I ever teach you."

In a single motion, Kuja tossed the bloody heart at Zidane's feet. The Silver Dragon burst through the trees and bowled Zidane over. Kuja watched, amused, as Zidane rolled away like a broken toy. The Silver Dragon's beak clamped around the heart and tossed it into the air. The meat disappeared down its gullet in a single gulp.

Zidane climbed shakily to his feet. The knees of his pants were torn open. With all the naivety of a child, and the nonexistent self-preservation of a Genome, Zidane simply stared. Now that the food was gone, the dragon rounded on him with a growl. Kuja leapt down from the tree, causing the dragon to flap its wings and retreat to the edge of the forest. It puffed out its feathers and glared. Despite the threatening display, the hatchling was unwilling to challenge Kuja. With a final snarl, the dragon plunged back into the trees.

"_Anything_ can attack you, Zidane," said Kuja. "It would be in your best interests not to trust _anyone_."

Zidane toddled closer and grasped Kuja's hand in his tiny fingers. Kuja flinched at being touched.

"The Gaia people attacked you," said Zidane, pressing his thumb against one of Kuja's healing burns. With a hiss, Kuja wrenched his hand away. A month had passed since Madain Sari, but many of the wounds were still sore.

"They have dragons too." Kuja cradled his injured hand to his chest. "Dragons so large they can cover the sky with their wings."

Zidane's eyes widened. "The Gaia people _make_ the dragons attack?"

"The _Summoners_ can control dragons, yes – and monsters far worse than that. That is why we must destroy them."

Zidane nodded. "I will kill the Summoners."

Kuja frowned. "What do you mean…?"

"Master says I will kill the Summoners."

_What?!_ Kuja's cheeks grew hot with rage and humiliation. _He cannot – he _will not_ toss me aside – the Summoners are _mine_ to kill, and mine alone!_

Kuja swallowed the fury before it could explode from his mouth. _Calm yourself. Do not let your emotions show…_

"Well, I certainly hope you can defend yourself against Gaians better than you can against Silver Dragons."

"I will learn," said Zidane.

Kuja sneered. "I don't doubt it."

;

_The dream faded, but I didn't wake up. It was just dark… everywhere…_

Where am I…?_ I wondered. Images flickered around me like lightning in a distant storm. I couldn't make out anything in particular. It felt like I wasn't supposed to be there; like something was seriously wrong…_

Maybe I'm actually dying this time_, I thought fearfully. For days, I'd drifted about in a haze. Now I could feel my mind returning, and with it came the realization that I _really_ might actually be dying. _

_I didn't want to die… I knew that, with every fiber of my being. Dagger was still out there somewhere, and Mikoto, and Vivi, and Freya, and Eiko, and all these people I wanted – _needed_ – to see again. I couldn't die now. I couldn't… _

I don't want to die!

;

"Allow me to educate the boy."

Garland gave Kuja a calculating glare. "He is too young."

"Of course," said Kuja. "But it is because of his youth that his capacity for learning is more advanced than mine."

Kuja found it surprisingly easy to lie. He had been wrong about the frail minds of the Gaians. There was power in their emotions – a capacity for deceit and carnage the likes of which Kuja had never dreamed. He studied their tactics – their wars – and absorbed everything he could.

"That is true," said Garland. "However, I believe it is in the best interests of our mission that Zidane receives more education before he is taken to Gaia. I did not send you until you had lived for twelve of Gaia's years. I had thought it would be ample time for you to learn to overcome the Summoners. That was a miscalculation."

Kuja struggled to keep his anger from showing. "On the edge of Bran Bal, Zidane was attacked by a Silver Dragon. Had I not been there to save him, he may have been destroyed. He cannot defend himself at all. When I was sent to Madain Sari, I knew all I could about Bahamut, yet it was due to my lack of experience that I, too, was unable to defend myself against the dragon. If you wish for Zidane to be of use in the next few years, he must learn from my mistakes."

"That is a truth I have come to realize," Garland agreed. "You were clearly unfit for the mission."

Kuja kept his expression blank, though he could feel the muscles tense in his jaw. "I am teaching myself of Gaia's ways. I study their strengths, that I may exploit them. They are a forgiving people when they feel pity, yet they will defend the pettiest ideals with almost animalistic ferocity. They are a chaotic people, and almost impossible to predict, but I am learning."

Garland did not speak for a moment. "What you say is logical. Your failure set my plans back by many years, so Zidane must prepare as soon as possible. What remains of our flora and fauna is dying. Terra will not be able to sustain itself in this state much longer. Do what you will, so long as I see results."

"Of course," said Kuja. "I am fully committed to this mission."

A shadow passed over Garland's eyes. "I have glimpsed into your mind, Kuja. I know what you are becoming."

All the blood drained from Kuja's face. "What do you mean…?"

"Do not think I am blind to the anger in your heart. I see it in fractured glimpses – you are being consumed by your rage."

"…I… I am fully in control of myself. If my will grows strong, it only succeeds in fueling my power."

"I am aware," said Garland. "And that is why I allow you to continue. Your anger has resulted in impressive destruction, and I believe it will continue to do so. You lash out when you are angry, and that is what I desire. I think there is much Zidane can learn from your violence. Just ensure you do not lose sight of your mission."

"Of course," said Kuja, trying to quell the bitter resentment inside him. "I will not disappoint you again."

;

"_I think there's something sinister happening… Something I do not understand…"_

"_You must have read something about this…"_

"…_I don't think this is a medical ailment at all…"_

"_I thought you didn't believe in that holistic stuff…"_

"_I don't. But I am willing to admit when something is beyond my understanding. I need to speak with the boy, but it seems he is lost like his brother…"_

"_What should we do?"_

"_I don't know… For the first time in my career, I truly have no idea what to do…"_

;

Zidane was the most annoying creature in all of written history. Truly. Not even _mosquitoes_ could possibly be this irritating.

The first time Kuja brought Zidane to Gaia, they traveled to Oeilvert, where the boy shadowed him as he retrieved Terran artifacts. Oeilvert was a dreadful relic of old Terra soaked in an anti-magic barrier. Kuja dreaded entering. As it turned out, however, Zidane was by far the biggest pain. Gaia was completely new to him, and he expressed his curiosity by touching everything in sight. After he'd set off the fifth alarm, Kuja put the boy on a high balcony and told him to wait. When Kuja returned an hour later, Zidane was trapped on a thin railing several stories above the floor. For the first time in his life, Zidane actually looked afraid. Kuja was just exasperated. Since he couldn't use magic, Kuja was forced to climb a gnarled, thorny vine towards the railing. Zidane tried to crawl towards him, lost his balance, and plummeted towards the floor. Kuja wished he could let nature take its course, but he couldn't enact his plan too quickly lest he face Garland's wrath. With lightning reflexes, Kuja lashed out and caught Zidane's hand, causing the vine to snap and sending them both tumbling to the floor. Zidane climbed to his feet on top of Kuja and unapologetically brushed the dirt from his pants. Kuja rolled over and unapologetically toppled the boy on his face.

The second time Zidane accompanied Kuja to Gaia, they traveled to Esto Gaza. Kuja was there merely to test the Terran shields guarding the Shimmering Island. Zidane had never met a Gaian until then, so his questions poured from him like water from a broken dam. Kuja let the boy run his mouth, hoping he'd exhaust himself after awhile. Everything was fine until Kuja overheard Zidane asking a monk why he was so fat. Mortified, Kuja escorted Zidane away with an apology while the monk muttered something about "reconsidering his faith."

While Kuja ran his finger along the script of a holy altar, Zidane decided to show off and read the inscription aloud. The watching priest almost had a stroke, and Zidane and Kuja found themselves surrounded by fanatic pilgrims. The locals were convinced they were angels from the Shimmering Island. Kuja wasn't sure how to resolve the situation without making a scene, so he accepted the overzealous priest's invitation into the temple for dinner. The priest was beside himself with excitement, thinking he was speaking with one of the Shimmering Island's ancient guardians (he wasn't entirely wrong, Kuja supposed). Kuja spouted some nonsense in an attempt to divert the priest's attention, but Zidane was more than happy to call him out on it. When the boy went mysteriously mute halfway through dinner, Kuja told the priest the boy had been cursed by an ancient spirit.

"Yes, I'm afraid he loses his voice occasionally. Such a pity – a thousand years pass, and still no cure."

Zidane gave Kuja his first accusatory glare. Kuja smiled and helped himself to Zidane's pudding.

And so it went for another month. Kuja would explore Gaia, and Zidane would do everything in his power to trip him. By then, Kuja was ready to kick him off an airship. As if to grind salt into the wound, Garland was only ever concerned with Zidane's development, and hardly spared a passing glance at Kuja's successes. Even on Gaia, the locals fawned over Zidane's "adorable" tail and big, blue eyes. Strange women would lift him right out of the street and squeal with delight. No one ever bothered to ask Kuja if they could pick up his "baby brother." Kuja could only hope a Gaian woman would one day squeeze Zidane so hard his head would pop off.

Slowly, Kuja's hatred grew until it was matched only by his hatred of the Summoners. And so it was that Kuja decided to purge the world of Zidane as well. He had planned to do so for awhile – the question was simply when and how he would pull it off without inciting the wrath of Garland. There was no doubt that Zidane would have to be killed on Gaia. It was too dangerous to destroy him on Terra. Kuja puzzled over the problem for quite some time, but could not come up with a satisfying solution.

"They fly their ships with _souls?_" Zidane was milling uselessly about while Kuja crouched beneath an airship stalled outside the Falcon Gate. The device in his hand relayed information about the magical and chemical properties of the Mist pouring from the exhaust.

"Yes."

"That's not logical," Zidane insisted.

"_Obviously_," Kuja muttered. He returned his attention to the device in his hand. An unexpected magical compound was appearing in the data.

"Then why do they do it?"

"Because they are _fools_," Kuja snapped. "And they do not _know_ any better."

The compound was so minuscule, it was almost undetectable – a mere .001%. Kuja had run tests on this form of energy before. It was an _absorber_ of magic. When Kuja converted it into a spell, he found he could levitate objects or draw them to his hand. He wondered why such a compound would appear in the Mist used for airship fuel, unless…

"They do not seem like fools to me."

Kuja's head snapped up. "What?"

"The Gaians are not fools." Zidane was gazing towards the shadow of Lindblum above the mountains. Kuja had taken Zidane to the city mere hours earlier to take a break from research and watch one of the Theater District plays. Kuja was transfixed by the performance. It had never occurred to him that emotions could be used for _positive_ deceit. Surely, the actors did not actually _feel_ the emotions they were displaying, yet they were so convincing, one could truly believe they felt their character's sorrow and grief. They were professional liars, these actors, yet their lies brought entertainment to everyone in the crowd. Of course, Zidane had been far less interested in the play than Kuja. After the show, Kuja discovered that Zidane had pickpocketed the watch from the woman beside him. Kuja was so exasperated, he didn't even bother to reprimand the boy.

"If the Gaians are not fools, then you can join them." Kuja climbed out from beneath the airship.

"Why would I do that?"

"Oh, well, they find you so _cute_." Kuja sneered. "I imagine they would _love_ to have you among them forever. You can even _die_ among them, and join them in Gaia's soul cycle."

A worried look passed over Zidane's face. "…Kuja, are you mad at me?"

Kuja bared his teeth in a grin. "You are an insufferable brat. Why should I be mad?"

Zidane did not yet understand sarcasm. "Tell me why you are mad."

Kuja huffed the way the Gaians did when they were pretending to be amused by something. "All my life, I have had nothing, Zidane. You have never lived alone among the Genomes as I have. All I had was my mission. That was my _only_ purpose – my _only_ reason for being alive. You took the meaning of my very _existence_ away from me."

Zidane stared up at Kuja with wide, blue eyes. "I didn't want to take anything away from you…"

"Yet you did!" Kuja shouted. "You took _everything_ away!"

"I… I did not…"

"Silence!" Kuja seized Zidane by the neck and hoisted him into the air. The little boy made a painful choking sound as his feet left the ground. "I don't want to hear anymore words from you!" All the darkness and hatred was finally spilling over – all the emotions that had built up inside Kuja these past four years. He gave the boy a rough shake, which loosened a single tear from Zidane's eyes.

"I'm sorry…" the boy whimpered.

The sight of the tear stirred unexpected panic in Kuja. "Sorry?!" he shouted. "You are a _Genome!_ You do not even understand the _concept_ of sorry!"

"I – I do," Zidane insisted, coughing. "It's like… th-the man in the play… after he killed his friend… it's what Gaians s-say… when… when they hurt someone… and did not mean to… I am _sorry_, Kuja."

Kuja loosened his grip on Zidane's neck, allowing the boy to take a desperate breath of air. Kuja refused to release him, however.

"You are sorry…" he murmured, hanging his head.

"Y-yes…" Zidane sniffled.

Something crawled up Kuja's throat like the thousand legs of a millipede. The laughter that burst from his mouth was so unexpected, he nearly dropped Zidane in surprise. Kuja had never laughed in his entire life – had not even known _how_ to make the sound – but now he could not stop. The laughter simply bled from him, along with all the rage and sorrow.

"K-Kuja…?" Zidane whispered worriedly.

Even as the laughter faded, Kuja found he could not control the lopsided grin on his face. Everything seemed so absurd all of a sudden – even more absurd than the paid liars on the stage in Lindblum.

"Once you… once you took away my purpose in life…" said Kuja. "The only thing I had left was my hatred…"

"…Kuja…"

"And I hate you _so much_." Kuja squeezed Zidane's throat until his fingernails dug into the soft skin. "But when you look at me like this – like this sad little child with big, sad eyes – you _take my hatred away from me too!_"

"Kuja – !"

The snarl that tore from Kuja's lips was feral. He felt as though he were standing miles from his body, watching this wild animal strangle the life from a little boy.

"P-please, Kuja…" Zidane sobbed. "I don't… I don't want… to die…"

Zidane's eyes rolled back in his head suddenly. Kuja returned to his body in a rush and sank to his knees. Shuddering, he released the lifeless child and watched him collapse like a little redheaded boy with his throat cut open. Kuja remained on his knees for a long time, shaking despite the warmth of the sun. It felt as if someone had cut him open and removed his insides. He felt hollow… empty… Kuja wrapped his arms around his midriff and leaned forward, coughing. Why did it hurt?! Was he sick?! It felt like he was going to _die_.

Even when the nausea faded, Kuja found he could hardly breathe. Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he reached a trembling hand towards Zidane's throat.

_Still alive…_

Kuja didn't know what to do. This wasn't part of the plan… this wasn't… why did he…

_What am I doing…?_

Shivering, Kuja pocketed his data machine and scooped Zidane into his arms. It was a long trek back to Lindblum. The city was a mechanical monstrosity swallowing the sky in smoke and cogs. The people jostled each other left and right. Kuja stumbled blindly, overwhelmed by the crowd and the noise and the machines. He made his way back towards the Theater District, as it was the only destination he could remember. Clutching Zidane's body to his chest, Kuja ducked quickly through the streets. Someone tried to stop him – to ask what was wrong – but he shrugged them off.

Kuja stopped suddenly when he spotted a young, redheaded boy darting behind an apple stand. A little girl with blue pigtails was obliviously eating one of the fruits. With a sudden shout, the boy popped out from behind the cart and tackled her. The girl screamed and dropped her apple. Then she punched the redhead in the face.

"Damnit, Ruby!" The redhead fell back, clutching his bloody nose

"Blank, you stupid bastard!" the girl with the blue hair shouted. "Ah bought that apple with the last ah mah coins!"

A fistfight ensued, sending innocent bystanders stumbling away from the whirlwind of violence. A massive barrel of a man stormed towards the kids, shouting angrily. He had pointy ears and a scruffy, pink beard. The large man dragged both the children to their feet by their ears and cuffed them across the backs of their heads.

"Stop messin' around you two or I swear on the Fat Chocobo – !"

Kuja hid behind a garbage can while the burly man stomped away, barking at the kids to follow. The little redheaded boy stuck his tongue out at the girl. He had a mischievous grin on his face. Kuja imagined he was exactly what Safi would have been like, had the boy ever regained his health.

Holding his breath, Kuja crept into the street and laid Zidane on the cobblestones. Then he darted back behind the trashcan. A moment later, Kuja heard the man with the beard shout, "the hell is this?!"

By then, Kuja was already running for the city gate. Whatever happened to Zidane after that, he did not care to know.

;

_I walked through endless miles of darkness. I felt strangely hollow, but I also couldn't shake the feeling that there was too much inside me and my skin was gonna split open at the seams. _

"_Please don't tell me I'm trapped in here forever…" I muttered. "C'mon, gods, chocobos, whoever… this _can't_ be what eternity looks like…"_

_The world rushed up beneath me suddenly and I fell flat on my back – which should've been impossible, because there was nothing but darkness in all directions. When I looked up, I nearly screamed like a little girl. Kuja was above me, looking haggard and terrified. He grabbed my shoulders and started saying something over and over._

"_Don't die…" he whispered. "Don't die, don't die, don't die, don't die…"_

"_Kuja!" I struggled to sit up, but he held me down. A strange heat was creeping up around me._

"_No, no, no…" Kuja's eyes were wide. I'd never seen him look so scared – even when he was fleeing Madain Sari. "Please, don't die… don't die…"_

"_Kuja, I'm _not_ dying!" Or, at least, I _hoped_ I wasn't. "You didn't kill me then, and I'm not dying now!"_

"_Get out of here!" Oddly, Kuja didn't seem to be shouting at me. He was staring at something in the darkness with his teeth bared in rage. "You will not win this!" _

_A cold, pale mist emerged from the void and wrapped itself around Kuja's arms and throat like tentacles. It pulled him away from me, causing him to scream in fury._

"_No!"_

_Suddenly, Kuja lunged forward and threw himself upon me. I tried to shove him off, but the vines of mist wrapped around us like a cocoon and enveloped us in the dark._

;

"You have returned…" Garland's eyes were as cold as ever.

"Yes." Kuja nodded. "And I discovered something most remarkable. I think I know how to defeat the Summoners."

"Is that so?"

Kuja held out his device. "The Gaians – fools that they are – convert Mist into fuel for their airships. They know not what the Mist is made of."

"Yes, they are an ignorant people," Garland agreed. "And it will be no loss to the galaxy when they are gone."

Kuja nodded. "When I analyzed the components of the fuel – " He turned a few dials, displaying the appropriate information. " – I found traces of an absorber magic – almost completely untraceable. It appears in such a small quantity, I had to almost recalibrate the entire machine."

"And?"

"I believe this magic is what allows the Gaians to _bind_ the Mist – to control it almost like liquid. It is a natural byproduct of the Iifa Tree, and binds naturally, even without a spell caster. Thus, the Gaians harness its power unknowingly. This Magic is the source of _all_ their technology."

Garland took the device from Kuja. For once in his life, he looked mildly impressed with Kuja's work. "That is indeed interesting… Yet there is a hole in your logic. How will you exploit this discovery in Madain Sari? The village is not located on the Mist Continent, and does not use Mist technology."

Kuja nodded. "Initially, my ideas were narrow and uninspired. I imagined I could create a spell that would remove the absorbent magic from the Mist, causing all Gaian technology to fail. But it is as you say – the people of Madain Sari do not rely on the Mist, nor do the people of any other continent on the planet. Such an attack would only affect a quarter of the world, and only those who can afford to use technology in the first place. I realized, then, that I should not turn my thoughts toward the removal of the element – I should consider _using_ it."

"What use would you have for such magic?"

"It absorbs," said Kuja. "And draws energy towards itself to do so – almost like a magnet. It would be an extremely _powerful_ magnet to naturally bind the Mist – more powerful than any technology we have now. If this magic can pull Mist towards other magics, and Mist is comprised of souls, then this magic can also _absorb_ souls, rather than simply displace them."

Genuine interest alighted in Garland's eyes. "Go on…"

"The target is magically magnetized," said Kuja. He held out his hand, and a small vial lifted from across the lab and floated into his palm. "And a magnet can be used for extraction. Possession, even. If I can learn to use this magic – to harness the Mist as the Gaians have – I could use it to _take_ souls artificially – even Eidolon souls."

"So you mean to possess the Eidolons, as the Summoners do?"

"It's a possibility," said Kuja, turning the vial around in his hand. "One I would certainly like to test. It would revolutionize the assimilation process. We could even hold on to individual souls, rather than extracting them from the cycle at random."

"Yes, that will be very important for when I create another Angel of Death."

Kuja stiffened. "Yes, that is one possible use…"

"How much time do you estimate you will require to master this magic?"

Kuja ran the calculations in his head. "Four rotations of Gaia at most."

"Excellent. This is extremely good to hear. Our plans may not be as delayed as estimated. I will oversee your research to ensure it is carried out with maximum efficiency."

There was a strange tension in the air that had not been there before. Kuja felt uncomfortable but nodded nonetheless. "I will begin right away."

"But I wonder, Kuja…" Garland peered at him in a way that made him feel like a fruit peeled open. "_Do_ I need to create another Angel of Death…?"

Kuja felt all the muscles in his body tense. Garland did not often use his name, and he rarely used it without malice. "I… I do not believe so, at this stage in our plans…"

Garland seemed to loom suddenly, though he hadn't moved. "I cannot help but notice that Zidane has not been spotted in Bran Bal since your return…"

"I…" Kuja's throat went dry. He thought he would have more time – he thought he would have at least another rotation to come up with an excuse – a lie. Nothing had gone as planned. Kuja had intended to appease Garland with his discovery and a full day of research. _Then_ he would break the news, cushioned by his successes. This… this was too soon…

"I… I tried to save him…" Kuja let the lie pour forth. "I truly did… But the Gaian people… they are _monsters…_"

Garland's eyes darkened. "The Gaian people killed Zidane?"

"Took him," said Kuja. "As if he were nothing but a stray dog. For what purpose they took him, I cannot fathom, but I am sure he is still alive. I am already determining a course of action. I am _sure_ I can track him down…"

Garland did not speak. He seemed to be waiting for something. The silence made Kuja squirm.

"Was it not your task to protect him?"

"I… I tried." Kuja wanted to shrink away like a child. "I chased after the Gaians and even managed to kill a few, but they were clever, and escaped through the overpopulated crowd in the street. I will reign fire upon the city for this, I assure you."

"You told me Zidane was old enough to be trained on Gaia," said Garland. "Were you not incorrect in this assumption?"

Kuja bowed his head. "The Gaians are fiercer than I realized. They _must_ be stopped – even those who cannot summon Eidolons. I will begin preparing – "

"You have not learned to lie very well."

Kuja felt his heart freeze. "I – "

"You must think me a fool." Garland's eyes were like ice. "You have done well in your research, and I have no doubt you will succeed in Gaia's destruction – but for all your successes, you remain my ultimate disappointment."

It felt as if the floor dropped out beneath Kuja. Even his fingers felt cold – bloodless.

_No…_

It should not have mattered… It should not have been important… He did not care what Garland thought – he did not care what _anyone_ thought of him. So why did it feel like someone was breaking his ribs one by one and tearing out his heart?

"I see the despair in your eyes," said Garland. "You are in pain – a pain you do not even understand. The agony consumes you. Do you enjoy this feeling? Do you enjoy suffering as the Gaians suffer?"

Kuja couldn't seem to find his voice. _Hold on to your hate,_ he told himself. _Hold on to it as tight as you can, for it is all you have left. It is the only thing that will allow you to fulfill the promises you have made._

"Abandoning Zidane was a grievous error," said Garland. "One I do not believe you can ever repair. You have shown me that for all the benefits of your chaotic nature, you will never escape the damage that recoils back upon you."

Kuja stepped back, fearful. "I… I do not wish to be reset again…"

"No." Garland shook his head. "You have proven over and over that the experiment will fail. I cannot suppress your will and leave your capacity for destruction intact. I created you as a creature of _war_, Kuja – a living weapon. The war can only continue so long as there are two sides left to fight inside you."

Kuja tried to hide the fear on his face, but he was sure his body betrayed him. He could feel himself shaking like a wretched dog.

"I-in that case… will you let me go…?" Kuja did not believe for a moment that Garland would let his betrayal go unpunished – not for this – not for his precious Zidane. To Kuja's utter despair, Garland shook his head.

"I cannot suppress your will, but I do believe I can train you. To begin, you will be banned from all further travel to Gaia. Should the day come that you are able to defeat the Summoners, then perhaps I will return the privilege."

"Please… do not do this…" Kuja felt sick, pleading with Garland, yet he saw no other way. He could hear the truth between Garland's words. All his freedoms would be taken away – he would be leashed like any other Genome – submitted to the blue light with no hope for reprieve. On Gaia, he was free to wander wherever he desired. On Terra, there was no telling what Garland might subject him to. How many experiments? How many tests? How would Garland _train_ him?

Kuja's terror turned to rage in that moment. No, he was _not_ a beast to be tied to a post and beaten. He was not a _dog_. Kuja gazed into the cold, unfeeling eyes of his supposed master. He would not _beg_ before such a person. He would not grovel before _any_ man.

Garland raised his hand, which pulsated with blue light. Kuja refused to look at it. He kept his eyes locked with Garland's – a challenge. A curse. A _promise_.

_Do your worst, old man._ _You cannot hurt me if I do not care._

It was Kuja's last thought before he collapsed beneath the light.

;

_A woman was staring at me, so I stared back. She wasn't even blinking. I wasn't sure if I should be weirded out or impressed._

"_Uh… can I help you?"_

_The woman frowned. "Do you know your name?"_

The hell…?_ "…I'm not stupid…" That was a lie. My brains felt like scrambled eggs._

"_Tell me your name," the woman said sternly._

"_Uh… Zidane?"_

"_And how do you feel, Zidane?"_

_Now that she asked, I felt _terrible_. Like, _extremely_ terrible. I was hot. Nauseated. Weak._

"_Gross…" I decided. Even my voice sounded like hell. _

"_I can imagine." The woman's frown deepened. "You're not showing signs of significant improvement. This must be a temporary lucidity – it's not so uncommon. We must talk fast."_

"…_Yeah, I dunno about… the whole… talking thing…" I coughed pitifully. Ah, if only Freya could see me now, I'd never hear the end of it – that competitive wench, always winning at everything. No, it wasn't good enough that she could best me in a fight, she could even _outdrink_ me, damn her. Freya was probably tittering about my pathetic sickness with General Beatrix while I wasted away. Goddamn warrior women, I'm tellin' ya, they never – _

"_Zidane!" Fingers snapped in my face._

"_Huh? Wha – ?"_

"_You need to _listen_ to me." The woman gripped my face between her hands and squeezed my cheeks so hard I thought my eye would pop out of my head. The woman's expression was deadly serious, so I tried to focus on her otherwise swimming features. "I do not know who you truly are, but I _do_ know who your brother is."_

_Was my nausea from sickness or horror? Probably a sad cocktail of the two. _

"…_How…?"_

"_I was the head White Mage at Alexandria Castle, up until the war."_

"…_talk about a… demotion…" I could imagine Dagger punching me in the shoulder and calling me a, "smart-ass." _Gods_, I missed her…_

"_It does not _matter_, Zidane." The woman gave me a rather unnecessary shake. "I am a healer; it is the oath I have taken. Your brother is the most wretched man in all of Gaian history, but if I were to let him die, it would only prove that what he believed of us was true."_

"…_not following…" _

_The woman's hands slid down to my shoulders and gripped them tightly. "You are not a species known to this continent. I am certain of this. What powers do your people possess? Is the healing process different? Tell me _everything_."_

"…_I know… nothing…" I admitted hoarsely. "…didn't even… didn't know what I was until… like… week ago…"_

_The woman's face fell. She looked angry. "Your brother raves, and when he is not raving, he languishes."_

"…_he's crazy…"_

"_I agree, but that is hardly the problem." _

"…_problem?" _

"_Sometimes, when he raves, you mutter about the same visions. It is as if you share his mind. I do not understand, and if I am not _made_ to understand, then your brother may die. He weakens a little more every hour."_

"_I…" _Wait…_ I furrowed my brows, confused. The visions… the dreams… "You mean I see what _Kuja_ sees…? He's having the _same_ dreams?"_

"_It appears that something like that is occurring, yes."_

_I raised a trembling hand to my forehead, which was _killing_ me. "I… I've been havin' these crazy… dreams… It's like… like I'm watching Kuja's life… pass before his eyes…"_

_When I put it like _that_, it sounded terrible. Apparently, the woman thought so too. She looked deeply troubled._

"_Why would this happen, Zidane? Is this normal? Explain this to me."_

"…_I don't know…" I said honestly. "This… it doesn't… make sense… even to me…"_

_The woman bit her lip in frustration. "Have you seen _any_ other visions, besides Kuja's memories?" _

_When I strained my mind, I saw glimpses – fragments. A dark place. And heat. Kuja's face – _

"_There was… there was this thing…" I panted. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake. "Everything was black… It looked _so_ cliché…" I squeezed my eyes shut. "Kuja was there… he was saying something… Over and over he said, 'don't die.'"_

_When I opened my eyes, the woman was giving me a perplexed look. "Don't die…?"_

"_Over and over… he kept sayin' it… then he yelled 'get out of here!' …was like… sounded like he was pleading with someone…"_

"_Do you think he knew you were there…?"_

"…_dunno… he threw himself on top of me… like… like he thought… something was coming… There was mist…"_

_The woman glanced over her shoulder for a moment, then turned back to face me. She looked extremely worried. "Zidane, listen to me."_

"…_listenin'…"_

"_You need to tell us the next time something like that happens."_

"…'_kay…"_

"_I _mean_ it. I know it's hard for you to stay awake, but you _have_ to tell us. Find a way to stay conscious whenever you can."_

"…_hah…"_

"_I'm _serious_, Zidane." The woman gripped my face again. "Your brother is _dying_. Is that getting through to you?!" _

_Of course it was, but how the hell was I supposed to do anything about it when I was being drowned in that blue light…?_

;

Two years… Two years he worked, never ceasing – barely daring to eat or sleep. Even as he studied the absorbent magic, he himself absorbed _everything_: every hurt, every misery. He never knew when he might be dragged down beneath the light – he never knew when he might wake up on a steel table, or find himself in a glass tank. Once, he had willingly submitted himself to such treatment. Now, he let hatred fester in his heart.

In the rare moments that he was not researching, practicing, or being trained, he would retreat into the forests. There, he would kill, kill, kill, because it was the only thing he was _good_ at. It was all he was meant for.

He noticed, from time to time, that the Silver Dragon that scavenged near the edge of Bran Bal was watching him. Kuja was confused at first, until he remembered the heart he'd fed it. The little beast was looking for _handouts_. Kuja usually tossed the beast some meat and let it feast before it fled into the trees. The dragon was the only monster he didn't hunt down and kill.

As time passed, Kuja's research grew more complex. Garland questioned him unceasingly. It irritated Kuja to no end, since he had been chastised his whole life for having so many questions of his own. Kuja eventually created a spell that could turn the glowing pit inside the Invincible – which acted as both a fuel supply and an attack source – into a funnel that could both absorb and store souls. Garland wished for Kuja's research to be tested before being used on Terra's last remaining airship, as it was a treasured relic of the lost civilization. Kuja created a smaller replica of the Invincible's eye – a glowing, red jewel of the same substance – and cast the necessary spells. He couldn't fathom what use Garland would have for it, however. There simply weren't enough humanoid souls on Terra for a proper demonstration.

Garland didn't see any problem with that.

"There are reasons for everything that I do," he said, turning the red jewel in his hands. Kuja eyed him warily from the interior deck of the Invincible. He could feel the heat of the pit pulsating against him.

"I do not doubt it," said Kuja, gripping the railing.

"I know you resent many of the trials I have put you through these past thirteen years." Garland continued to gaze at the jewel in his hand. "But you will come to thank me for what I have done to you."

"I do not doubt that either," said Kuja, smiling bitterly.

"It is because of what you are – how I made you – what I have _done_ to you – that you are what you have become. It is because of the painful trials I have put you through that I know you will be able to handle anything."

Kuja did not even have time to be surprised before he was seized with agony. It was not only a physical pain – it was not just poison, or heat, or ice, or pressure – it was something so deep inside himself that his screaming seemed to come from miles away. Burning hands sluiced through his body and grasped his insides. Garland was wrong – Kuja could _not_ handle anything. He fell to his knees, and then to the floor. Everything that made him who he was – his very essence – was being uncoiled from his body like rope. Kuja screamed until blood spilled from his lips. Through the flames of agony, he could see Garland staring down at him with cold, white eyes. Kuja spat blood at him, causing Garland to back away. The pain unraveled Kuja until he no longer knew who he was or why he existed or why he had ever wanted to live at all. Distantly, he was aware of himself crawling to his knees and pressing his hands to his chest to ignite a spell that would end his life – end his suffering – but Garland magicked him unconscious before he could succeed.

Garland had won. Without him even realizing it, Garland had tricked Kuja into crafting the axe for his own execution. Kuja knew what Garland had done to him – even if it was merely a test – but he would not think about it – would not even allow a glimpse of it in his mind. The moment he admitted to himself what Garland could do – what Kuja had _taught_ him to do – he would go mad. Kuja wasn't entirely sure he hadn't already.

Somehow, he wound up back in the forest, sick and weak. For once, Garland's voice did not follow him. Kuja threw up several times as he stumbled through the trees. Eventually, his legs would no longer support him, so he crawled towards a thick tree and lay against its trunk. He could not think. He _would_ _not_ think. He simply focused on _living_. He had to remind himself every second to breathe, or he would have simply let himself die.

Black eyes were watching him through the trees. Kuja did not raise his head. He did not move. He simply lay there and reminded himself over and over that, somehow, despite everything, he was alive.

There was a thud and a low, keening growl. Kuja could feel a puff of breath on his face.

"I… I do not have food…" Kuja rasped, still staring emptily towards the sky.

The dragon huffed again and bellowed. Kuja could no longer feel the ground beneath him, or the clothes on his skin. He was lost. Hollow. He was nothing and no one. Garland could take everything away from him whenever he desired. Even the tiniest threads that held Kuja together could be unraveled whenever Garland wished it. Kuja's will had been a lie all along. He was nothing but an extension of Garland's own twisted psyche. Any slight power or control Kuja thought he'd had – it was gone. Garland had won. Kuja could see the future before his eyes, and it was nothing but an eternity of pain and fear.

Something brushed against Kuja's face. He was so startled, he blinked away the glaze of madness and found the Silver Dragon nudging his cheek with its snout. Kuja hardly registered what was happening. The dragon whined softly and snorted into his hair. Still delirious with pain, Kuja raised a shaking hand and cautiously rested it against the dragon's snout. His agonizing despair slowly gave way to amazement when the dragon did not bat him aside or retreat from his hand.

"Wh-what is this…?" Kuja murmured. The Silver Dragon nudged his face once, twice, then pulled away. It gazed down at him through seemingly empty sockets, but Kuja could feel the questioning gaze upon him.

…_Why do you not rise…?_

Kuja smiled up at it sadly. "I am a fool… My life is meaningless, and now, it is no longer even mine. You are no different from Garland, Dragon. You, too, only appear to take from me."

The dragon crouched, and Kuja was sure it would strike him down now that its food source was depleted. The dragon did not attack, however. Instead, it leaned forward and made a strange warbling sound in its throat.

_A play bow,_ Kuja realized with vague amusement. _I did not realize dragons used such a canine gesture…_

"Why do you do this, Dragon? I have nothing to give you." The dragon snuffled at Kuja's hair, causing it to billow. Kuja pulled back. "Just because I have feathers in my hair does not make me a dragon, you fool."

To Kuja's surprise, the dragon stuck its nose beneath his chin and butted it slightly. Kuja moved his face away in irritation. He was in no mood for the games of a clearly befuddled dragon. Suddenly, a slippery, gray tongue darted from the dragon's beak and lapped at the blood on Kuja's face. Kuja was too stunned to pull away. The dragon continued to lick his face while making a strange whinnying sound in its throat.

_It's grooming me…_ Kuja realized. _But why…?_

He poured over everything he knew about animals and their grooming habits. There was only one definitive explanation that appeared again and again: animals groomed members of their family.

_Family…?_

Kuja winced as the dragon's tongue dragged roughly across his cheek. He could still feel the echo of pain in his body. The dragon must have noticed, because it pulled away with a gravely whine. Kuja closed his eyes, relieved that the ordeal was over. Perhaps now he could just… lose himself for awhile…

There was a series of loud cracks, and then something heavy pressed against Kuja's shoulder. His eyes snapped open to find the Silver Dragon curling into a sleeping position beside him. The dragon was far too large to sleep in the forest, and its repositioning had broken the trunks of nearly every fragile tree around them. Unfazed by its own destruction, the dragon let out a low growl and puffed out the feathers on its neck. For the first time, Kuja noticed they were pink-tipped like its wings.

_A female, then…_

With her neck pressed against Kuja's shoulder, her head rested next to his thigh. The dragon exhaled loudly and all her muscles went slack. Kuja gazed at the magnificent creature for awhile. Silver Dragons were pack animals. They hunted alone, but always brought their kill to the pack at the end of the day. They were known to band together in groups as small as five, or as large as a hundred. This young dragon, however, always ate Kuja's kills and left the bones behind. She did not carry the food away. Furthermore, she continued to roam the forest despite her size. Kuja frowned thoughtfully.

"Have you lost your pack, pretty one?" Kuja hesitated a moment before carefully laying his hand against the back of the dragon's neck. The skin twitched beneath his touch, but the dragon didn't move. Kuja had never had a reason to touch another living being except to hurt them, and he wasn't entirely sure what touching someone in a neutral fashion was supposed to mean. He had seen Gaians lay their hands on the heads of their dogs or children. Even grown adults put their hands on one another's shoulders – just as Leutwin had often done. Kuja squeezed his eyes shut. Why had Leutwin touched his shoulders so often? Gaians used it as a "comforting" gesture, but Kuja hadn't been sad at the time. Then again, Leutwin was a perceptive boy. Perhaps he'd understood Kuja better than he'd understood himself…

Kuja wondered if dragons could feel sadness. They had souls, certainly, but not in the humanoid sense… Coughing, Kuja let his head fall to his chest.

The next time he awoke, he was slumped against the dragon's thick, warm neck, with his breath tickling her feathers. The dragon was sleeping contentedly.

…Kuja decided to name her Nirmali, from the ancient, Terran word for "pure."

Everything changed from that day forward. Kuja didn't question the contents of the vials he was injected with. He didn't ask for the results of the tests. He had no interest in knowing how much pain he could withstand, how much magic could be drained from him, or how long it took for his body to burn out toxins. He exploited the tests – focusing his every waking thought on his anger – and little by little, he learned to block out the pain. Was this not what Garland wanted? – a servant who did not scream when burned, did not cry when bled, who lay motionless while his body was poisoned? Kuja even grew a little, finally achieving a height the Gaians might consider appropriate for an adult. So what if Kuja was left retching from the tests? So what if he was unconscious for days? He did not _die_ from it – rather, he _strengthened_ himself on the poison. He submitted himself to the torture over and over until his blood ran _black_ with it. Kuja whittled himself like a wooden spear, grinding away weakness and pain and fear. He scraped and burned and sliced until he was more than just a weapon: he was a killing machine perfected by pain and fueled by _hate_.

He was a true Angel of Death.

;

_Y'know, my whole life, people have called me stupid. I dunno if it's the monkey-tail thing that makes them judge me, or if it's some kinda dumb blond joke. If my positive attitude makes me stupid, then I guess I'm okay with it. _

_Still, ever since I was a wee monkey-child, people have considered me a few chocobos short of a stable – so you can imagine how frustrating it was to be all discombobulated and sick and _dumb_. I mean, I _wanted_ to be awake, and I _wanted_ to help with whatever it was they kept saying about Kuja – something about dragons? – but there was no battling through that cloud in my head. It was impossible. Whenever I was awake, I felt wrung out like a washcloth. When I fell unconscious, it felt like something seized me between its claws. I had this strange sensation every time, like I'd been poisoned, and then the poison was removed. Or maybe it felt like I'd been stuffed with something, and then it was pulled out, but my skin was still stretched all thin and saggy. Oh, shut the hell up, I'm a thief, not a poet. I can't "make words good" like Kuja._

_The sad truth is that I had _no idea_ what was going on. I tried, I really did. Even now, it eats away at me every day of my life – the thought that maybe, if I hadn't been so _stupid_ – _

_I stay up for nights on end, wondering if things could've gone differently if I'd done this, or that, or this other thing. My mind runs in an endless loop of regret. _

_Everything was blending together until I barely knew who I was anymore. Sometimes, I was a little kid, confused and frightened in a clockwork city. Sometimes, I was a grown man hiding in a metallic forest. Other times, I was sick in a bed somewhere, and I couldn't seem to speak. Occasionally, it felt as if I left my body, and I saw inexplicable visions. I saw Dagger sitting at a window, gazing out at a sun setting into Mist. Sometimes, I saw Vivi stumbling through busy streets, straightening his hat and gazing about in wonder. Even Mikoto appeared before me from time to time. She would speak, but all I could hear was nonsense. Someone was crying… a threatening voice… a howling void…_

_Sometimes, Kuja was a young boy who was secretly even younger. Other times, he was himself again, and I would swear he was beside me. His eyes were pale – fixated on the empty air above him – yet he continued to speak. He shoved someone away and shouted. His eyes darted about as if he were surrounded by enemies only he could see. The look on his face was absolute horror. _

"_She says she might be able to help…" _

"Anything_ is better than this. I can't watch this anymore." _

"_If they're both connected by the same mysterious ailment, then why is _that_ one the only one screaming?"_

"_Only one is being punished."_

"_Oh, thank the gods you're here. Tell us everything."_

"_I know enough to know you cannot help them. This is beyond your people."_

"_Well _pardon me_ – " _

"_I mean no offense. I am new to this world. What you are witnessing is… something beyond even my own studies. I have senses that your people do not, and I sense the truth of what is happening. It is an attack."_

"_No, he only _thinks_ he's under attack! It's a delusion!"_

"_No, you simply cannot see what I see."_

"…_Then tell me what I can _do_…"_

;

Oh, it was beautiful. Yes… yes… _This_ was the beauty the Gaian poems were born from. Rain poured from the sky as if the gods themselves applauded his success. Two years it had taken before Garland trusted him. Two years before Garland believed he could succeed. Kuja had given _everything_ away for this – everything but the hatred needed to fulfill his promise.

Above, an enormous, red eye blinked lazily through the wound in the clouds. If it was true that only the gods had the power to judge and condemn the sinners, then truly _Kuja_ was a god, whose all-seeing eye gaped over Madain Sari.

Kuja soared high above the burning city on Nirmali's wings. Below him was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen – a moving painting – a living play. Since the day Kuja gave Zidane away to the Theater District, he learned all he could about Gaia's arts. Their dramas were both manipulative and beautiful, teasing emotions from the audience like venus flytraps luring flies into their gaping maws. If the crumbling civilization below was not worthy of Gaia's theater, then Kuja didn't know what was.

Fire twisted into the black sky. The Invincible was the literal eye of a raging storm, stirring hundred foot waves from the sea and beating rain against the battered people below. Even as Nirmali's wings brushed against the clouds, Kuja could hear the screams of the Summoner people. Another beam exploded form the Invincible's eyes and rocked the city. Amidst the cries of the Summoners, another sound could be heard – the spiritual cry of Eidolons scattering into the wind. Some died, and some did not. Some the Invincible sucked into its burning pupil. It did not matter what happened to the Eidolons in the end. Only the Summoners kept the legends alive, and without them, Gaia's guardians would sink into the ocean with its sinful people.

At last, it was time for Kuja to take the stage and become one with this song of death and sorrow. He gently guided Nirmali down. Screams shredded past her wings as they plummeted towards Madain Sari. Nirmali landed lightly in the fiery streets and roared. Kuja closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the music of agony around him. His own screams had sounded much the same once. The Summoners themselves had made him scream. Now it was their turn to suffer.

Dismounting onto the street, Kuja breathed in the smoke and blood and felt _alive_. The smell of burning flesh invigorated him. He walked slowly through the street, arms held open to accept the ash and rain that fell from the sky. _This_ was what he was meant for – the _only_ reason he had been made. Fourteen years he had wasted trying to _find _himself, yet his self had been there all along. Garland was wrong. There was no battle waging inside him – no duality stirring up Kuja's proclivity for chaos. He was only one being – a deity of death and destruction. He was, and would forever remain the God of War.

That was what the Summoners called him as they screamed.

"_The God of War is coming!"_

_The God of War._

Kuja threw his head back and laughed.

A great bellow shook the crumbling stones around them. Black wings rose up over the city and a shadow skirted along the belly of the clouds. Kuja craned his neck to watch, grinning. A giddiness rose up inside him – an electricity that made his every limb tingle with excitement. Bahamut circled overhead, roaring a hatred only _gods_ were capable of expressing. Kuja heard Nirmali growl behind him, so he sent his thoughts into her mind, reassuring the beast. There was no reason to fear. Not this time.

Kuja gazed up at Bahamut with nothing but joy. "At last," he murmured. "We meet again. It is unfortunate for _you_, little godling, that we are on an even playing field this time. The question is what to do with you…" Kuja tapped his chin thoughtfully as Bahamut began gathering energy between its jaws. "I could simply fight you – defeat you with magic and prove that I am more powerful than the King of Dragons. I could enslave you with the Invincible and turn you against your own city. I could even have you locked away in the soul cage, to dissolve into a red soup with all the other wretched spirits. What would you desire, Bahamut? What would be a worthy demise for the Dragon King?"

In response, the dragon tossed its head back and sent a jet of fire plummeting into the city. The flames tore through the air so fast, they cracked the sound barrier. Fire exploded against Kuja's body, but the flames washed over his skin like a warm breeze. Nirmali roared in distress, but she, too, was unharmed. Kuja's magic was stronger than ever – stronger than any attack Bahamut could muster. The King of Dragons was no longer even the slightest threat to the Angel of Death. When the flames dispersed, Kuja tilted his head back to allow the rain to wash away the ash on his face. Bahamut roared in anger, rattling the clouds in the sky.

"The truth is," said Kuja calmly. "The King of Dragons is little more than a pawn in this game. Just as I might enslave you with the Invincible, you are already enslaved to another… It would not be enough to kill you, Bahamut, or to chain you to my will. I want to destroy you _thoroughly_."

Laughing, Kuja turned his back on the dragon. Shaking the water from his hair, he swore he heard the applause of a phantom audience. This was truly the greatest story of revenge that had ever been told. Perhaps they would write a play for it someday before the planet fell.

The ground shook as Bahamut flapped his wings and rocketed up into the storm. The dragon was turning its attention on the Invincible, hoping to break it. Kuja chuckled. Bahamut could do nothing to destroy the great eye – it was fortified by magics so powerful, the airship was _truly_ invincible.

With Bahamut's roars orchestrating his destruction, Kuja strode through the streets, decimating the fleeing Summoners. A quick flick of his wrist sent a man and woman careening into the canal and drowning them in the storm. Throwing his hand in the other direction, Kuja threw a young boy into a wall and watched blood streak down the stones with the body. It required little more than the ghost of a thought for Kuja to bring an entire building crashing down upon a group of Summoners retreating through its front door. One by one the people fell, and with them, their Eidolons fell too. The Summoners called desperately upon their guardians, but Kuja's path of destruction was so swift, no beast could reach him. He brought down monsters and Summoners alike, until the streets ran red with their blood.

Kuja sent Nirmali soaring above the village so he could watch his own macabre theater from a distance. Then Kuja continued onwards, decimating villagers huddling from him in terror. He even gave in to the old pleasure of using his bare hands to kill some soldiers. Arrows broke against Kuja's newly crafted magical barriers, and even spears fell uselessly at his feet. What little Black Magic the Summoners could manage was as ineffectual as a kitten batting its paws against a wolf. Kuja tore through the streets in a storm of rage and flames.

"_You will not leave any survivors…"_ Those were Garland's exact words to him two years before. Kuja did not care if he pleased Garland or not – he would have killed every last Summoner for the mere _pleasure_ of it.

Near the cliffs at the edge of the city, Kuja threw aside a wagon and found two middle-aged women cowering beneath it with their hands over their heads. Sometimes Gaians cried because they were sad, and sometimes they cried because they were happy. These women, however, cried out of fear. It was the sweetest sound Kuja had ever heard. He waved his hand through the air, and his electricity silenced their fear forever.

In the glowing darkness beneath the eye, Kuja detected movement near the water. He straightened up, frowning, and spotted a shadow darting towards the pier. He smirked.

_A clever mortal attempts to flee by the sea… _

Kuja supposed he could let the fool escape – he highly doubted any Summoner could survive the raging storm and churning waters – but he had learned long ago not to underestimate these people. If the Summoner in question had an Eidolon with the elemental powers of water – like the infamous Leviathan, for example – then the Summoner might slip away after all. Brushing back his wet hair, Kuja let flames engulf his hands and guide him to the cliffs.

The storm shook the flimsy, wooden bridge, nearly tossing the fleeing mortal into the water. A crack of thunder sent the terrified shadow lunging forward and scrabbling across the pier. Moved by the heaving waves, a boat was knocking against the shore. Kuja watched the cloaked figure panting and fumbling desperately to untie the boat's tether.

"Do not waste your energy…"

The Summoner froze, startled. Kuja walked forward, flames dancing around his fingers. Their shadows swayed and shivered against the cliff wall.

"I'm afraid there will be no survivors," said Kuja, coming to a halt. "So I would make your peace now, before the shadow of death."

He couldn't help but grin as the Summoner's shoulders began shaking beneath their cloak. The voice that emerged from beneath the hood, however, caused his smile to slide away.

"…Kuja…?"

Kuja felt his heart turned to stone. The Summoner slowly lowered her hood to reveal a familiar face framed by dark hair.

"Jane…" said Kuja softly.

She was as lovely as the day he met her. Her eyes were wet and dark, but a fire burned inside them. Kuja smiled thinly.

"You are exactly as I remember you, my love. I'm afraid _I_, however, have changed. It must be shocking, to see me without burnt flesh and arrow wounds."

"I liked you better when you were _silenced_," Jane hissed. The hate in her voice made Kuja sneer.

"Yes, the wolf is only ever admired until it bites. _This_ wolf chose not to be tamed any longer."

Jane's expression darkened. "I had hoped I was wrong about you, Kuja… But I see now you are as tamed as ever."

Her words made Kuja's eyes narrow. "What nonsense do you speak?"

"Is it not your _master_ that sent you to do this?" Jane snapped as her eyes flared. "He must be so pleased to see his wolf brought to heel."

Kuja felt anger stir inside him. "I have _chosen_ to do this," he growled. "An eye for an eye, my dear, and it required a fairly _large_ eye to bring your people to justice."

Jane shook her head. "You deceive yourself. You've truly learned nothing…"

"Oh, I have _learned_," Kuja hissed, stepping forward. "I have learned what it is to be _alive_."

"By taking the lives of others."

"_Yes_. The weak will _always_ lose their freedom to the strong, and now _I _am the strongest."

Jane almost imperceptibly took a step backwards. Kuja noticed there was something concealed beneath her cloak.

"What are you hiding?"

With a soft gasp, Jane stumbled back. The movement shifted the cloak, allowing Kuja to catch a glimpse of a small, huddled form. Tiny fists clutched at Jane's clothes as the child hid her face in terror.

_Sarah…_ Kuja was surprised he remembered the name of Jane's daughter. She would be six now – the same age as – _No_. Kuja quickly shook the thought away. As he gazed at the child, he noticed a faint, green glow within Jane's cloak. Little fireflies of light were rising from Sarah's fingers. Kuja's eyes widened.

_This tiny child has summoned an Eidolon?! Impossible!_

Summoners could not bring forth nor control their Eidolons until they were sixteen – at least not without a stone or some other artificial means. But the green light… No, it did not come from Sarah's hands. It was rising from the fingers that clenched around them.

A roar shook moss and water from the cliff walls. Bahamut was sending wave after wave of Mega Flares against the Invincible. At last, the final puzzle piece fell into place.

"It was you…" Kuja whispered in shock. "You are the one… who summoned Bahamut…"

Jane drew her daughter closer and wrapped the cloak tightly around her to shield the light from view. Kuja could see the fear in Jane's eyes – the same fear he'd felt when Bahamut's flames consumed him – the same fear he'd felt when Jane sent her Eidolon to kill him. Jane was the one who locked him in a cell and cleaned the wounds _she_ had inflicted. The very woman who tried to destroy him had coddled him like a child, as if that meant he would somehow forgive her for what she had done. Kuja was so angry he was shaking. Words clawed against the inside of his throat. He panted, trying to think – trying to process –

"You… little… _wretch!_"

Kuja's magic rose like a tidal wave inside him, burning hot and strangling the air from his lungs. He thought he might _explode_ from the pressure. The fire engulfing his hands burst outward until Kuja's whole body was burning in flames of hate. His rage rose from him like a living being.

"Your little prisoner is back, Jane…" Kuja bared his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. "But this time, _I am the one who will burn you away!_"

Kuja rushed forward, but Jane flung her daughter aside and threw herself to her knees.

"Sarah, run!" Jane screamed. _"Now!"_

Before Kuja could stop her, the little child darted towards the boat. He couldn't let her get away. Even if he killed Jane, Bahamut's soul would pass down to Sarah. No, to defeat Bahamut, the whole bloodline had to die!

Kuja raised a hand to shoot down the child, but something barreled into him suddenly. He looked down to find Jane on her knees, clutching the sleeves of his cloak.

"No!" she sobbed. "Please! Please don't! Kill me, Kuja! Kill me, if that's what it takes to satisfy your anger! Just please, _please_, let my daughter _go!_"

Kuja had seen Jane cry before – for reasons he still didn't understand – but he was shocked by the sight of Jane's wide, terrified eyes. Tears poured down her cheeks and mixed with the salty rain. Jane's hands began to burn in Kuja's fire, yet she refused to let go. She was not the sort of woman to grovel, yet here she was, crying on her knees like a child. Kuja had never felt so disgusted in his entire life.

"Please, Kuja!" Jane sobbed. "Please! I summoned Bahamut to protect my _people!_ To protect my _daughter!_ Can you not understand?! If there was ever any mercy in you, Kuja – any sorrow or pity – then let my daughter go! Please tell me your master has not done this to you! Tell me there is still a trace of the boy who was afraid of the dark!"

Jane's words were like a knife through Kuja's heart, twisting and cutting it open vessel by vessel. With a growl of rage, he tossed Jane backwards in a burst of magic. She hit the ground and rolled across rough, wet stone. When she came to a halt, Jane curled up in a ball and sobbed. Kuja strode towards her, seething with anger.

"That boy is _dead!_" he screamed. "And that boy was _never_ afraid of the dark! _He never felt anything at all!_ You asked me once, if I understood love or friendship, and now I do! I have experienced this friendship you hold so dear, and it is nothing but a weak candle smothered before it can ever burn! Perhaps you will understand now, when I take your daughter's life! I will teach you, Jane, what a petty ideal you cling to! You will understand how easily love and friendship are taken away!"

As Kuja raised his hand for the killing blow, Jane scrambled forward and buried her face in Kuja's coat. Her hair was burning in the fire, and the skin along the back of her hands was raw. "…I knew it…"

Kuja's lips peeled back in a snarl. "Knew _what?!_"

"I knew you could feel something…"

"Only pain!" Kuja threw Jane backwards and stalked furiously towards her crumpled body. "Pain was all that awaited me when I awakened – a pain born in Bahamut's fire! There was no salve – no kind word you could have spoken that would change what you'd done! I felt _nothing_, Jane, _nothing at all_ until you put me in that cell and sentenced me to silence!"

Kuja was panting with rage. There was just too much – he couldn't feel this much – the hatred he clung to was _burning him alive _–

"You are right…" Jane whispered, trembling as she pulled herself up onto her hands and knees. "There is only pain in this world, Kuja… There is pain because of people like _you_… People who kill others without any thought for the lives that are left behind…" Jane stared down at her burnt hands through wet ribbons of hair. The fire had gone from her eyes, leaving only hollow despair. "So just… take my life, Kuja… End my pain… and spare my daughter…"

Kuja felt something shake inside him. "You would give up your own life for the life of a child?! You would deny the basic instincts of self-preservation for someone other than yourself?! There is no _logic_ in this – it goes against _nature!_"

"I am not a slave to nature…" Jane stared defiantly into Kuja's eyes.

The flames diminished around Kuja's body. Jane – this fragile, useless mortal – never felt any fear unless it was fear for others. She was afraid of nothing for herself – not even death – yet she hid within that frail body a passion for life that would send her into the raging sea if it meant saving her daughter. It didn't make _sense_. It went against the very foundation of survival.

But Kuja had seen this passion before – this reckless self-sacrifice for the sake of another. He'd seen it in the eyes of a skinny boy with blond hair, even as the life bled from those eyes beneath the dark, Treno sky.

Kuja stood still for a long time and let the rain lash against his face. The flames died out around him, leaving him cold and wet – but no less angry. By the _gods_, he hated Jane. He hated her more than any other being he had ever known – even Garland. At least Garland had never _pretended_ to care. Kuja clenched his fingers into fists, fighting down the urge to strangle the wench until the last of her passionate flame was extinguished. Down by the black water, Kuja could see Sarah throwing the rope into the bay. The child was slumping, however, and before she could grab an oar to push off from the pier, she fainted. In the distance, Bahamut roared.

"I dreamt of you, Kuja…" Jane whispered softly over the lashing rain. "I dreamt a prophecy that you would find what he'd taken from you. I dreamt you would save – rather than take – the life of someone you hated…"

Kuja smacked Jane with such force, she fell to the ground in a heap.

"You know _nothing!_" Kuja screamed. "There are no prophecies, you whore, and I am not _saving_ your life! You begged me for death, and so I take it from you! Death is a _privilege_, Jane, and silence is a gift you do not _deserve!_ So _go!_ Run to your daughter, and run from my mercy! Enjoy your existence, and all the pain you will suffer for it!"

Jane stared up at Kuja with wide eyes. Pinned beneath that gaze, Kuja was once more an animal strapped to a table – open, exposed… _helpless_. Kuja snarled and Jane finally ran. Climbing into the boat, she shoved the oar against the tethering rock and pushed off from the cliff. As the boat listed sideways, she gazed back at Kuja with the same eyes that had gazed down at him that night in the cell.

"Promise me, when that day comes, you will save that life!" Jane's voice was almost swallowed away in the storm. "In return, I will not take a single moment of my own life for granted! I will savor every smile you've spared me! Should the day come that we meet again, I hope you'll have found a reason to smile too…"

Kuja sneered, but somehow, it felt more like a grimace. Without a word, he turned his back on Jane and walked back into the roaring flames.

;

_The darkness again. _

_Kuja had his back to me, and his head was bowed. Distantly, I remembered someone telling me this was important – that I should try to focus. It was so hard to shake away the fog…_

"…_Kuja…?"_

"_Wake up, Zidane…" _

"_Kuja, what's going on?" I demanded. "Why are we – what's happening?"_

"_I have done what I can…" Kuja wrapped his arms around his torso. _

_Feeling more alert than I had in days, I staggered forward, reaching towards my brother. "Kuja, don't move. Stay where you are. You know I'm here, right? You're not just talking to walls?"_

"…_my own fault…" Kuja murmured, shaking his head. "My own greed that gave him the technology… In the Iifa Tree, I had not yet realized…"_

_I paused, afraid that if I put a hand on Kuja's shoulder, he would disappear. _

"_We cannot defeat him, Zidane…" Something in Kuja's voice made me feel uneasy._

"_Who?"_

"_He was weak, so he waited for us to weaken… I thought I could fight him… This is but a temporary reprieve…"_

_I realized for the first time that Kuja was transparent, almost like smoke._

"_It was wrong of me…" Kuja unwound his arms and brought his hands up to his face. "He was punishing me, and I knew that if I brought the fight to you, you would be punished too… But I did not know how else to save you…"_

"_Kuja, what are you _talking_ about…? You're rambling…!"_

"_Do what I could not and defeat him, Zidane. Do not let him win. I understand the importance of life now. I understand why you cling to it so desperately. Life is beautiful…" Kuja's shoulders shuddered. "You have to fix my mistakes, Zidane. I have done everything I can, but I… I must…"_

_I felt cold all of a sudden. "Kuja… whatever it is that you're thinking of doing… don't do it… Don't do anything stupid…"_

"_I can't let you die." Kuja shook his face behind his hands. "I've kept every hateful promise I've made, and broken every good one… I am _not_ about to break this one, too…"_

"_Kuja…!" I finally reached out and grabbed his shoulder, surprised to find it was solid. "Damnit, Kuja, _listen_ to me! Whatever this is – if this is Garland or whatever – we can fight him together! We can win this! You don't have to fight alone!"_

"_You don't understand…" Kuja's voice broke. "I want to give you a chance to experience joy and laughter with the queen… I took that away from you… just as I stole everything away from her…"_

_I spun Kuja around and was shocked to see tears streaming down his cheeks. The look in his eyes was so utterly broken and defeated, my heart shattered at the sight._

"_Kuja, don't – "_

"_I'm sorry, Zidane…" he whispered. "For everything… I don't… I don't believe in prophecies… or redemption… but I do believe in the power of words…"_

_Frustrated, I gave Kuja a fierce shake. "Stop it! Stop this bullshit _right now!_ You've already saved my life – _and_ the lives of my friends! You've saved Dagger _twice!_"_

"…_Yes." Kuja smiled sadly. "But there is no purpose in saving a life that is not given time to live. You are just a child, Zidane…"_

"_Kuja – !"_

"_I'm sorry, Zidane." Kuja cupped my face with his pale, translucent hands. It was the first time he'd ever touched me with affection. "I'm truly sorry… for everything… But I have a promise to fulfill… so… I'm afraid this is goodbye."_

_And then he vanished._

;

It was a warm, summer day. The sky was blue, and the sun sparkled across the water. The wind he'd followed was gentle now as it carded through his hair. He climbed carefully down the path of mossy rocks to the sandy shore. Warm water lapped against his boots. Above, the great crystal of Alexandria caught the sun and shimmered. He could hear the creaking of a small boat washed ashore.

Kuja made his way across the soft, spongy sand. The boat had been dashed upon the rocks, and the interior had flooded. There were two bodies embracing inside the boat – a mother and child – wrapped in sopping cloaks. The woman's long, brown hair drifted eerily like seaweed.

Kuja gazed down at them, silent as the salty wind ruffled his hair. The child was stirring at last. Kuja frowned. He could see blood trickling from the bloody gash across her forehead. It would hurt terribly if she awoke. If the trauma was bad enough, she might never be the same again.

Kuja knelt down beside the boat, ignoring the water soaking through the knee of his pants. Carefully, he brushed aside the mother's dark, wet hair to reveal a pale face littered with bruises. Her eyelids were dark and her parted lips were pale and blue.

Kuja rose to his feet and silently made his way back along the shore. The rocks beneath his feet were slippery as he climbed towards the blue sky and the shimmering crystal. Jane had been wrong about him – he was sure of that now. He did not even dwell on the irony of the warm sun on his face.

Deep in his heart, however, in the black place where he smothered his pain, he felt something vital break away and die along with Jane.

;

"_No!" I sat up suddenly and doubled over, coughing. "It – it happened again – the dark place – I saw – he's gonna – "_

"_Calm down kid…" Someone was at my side with a hand on my shoulder. "It's gonna be alright – "_

"_No!" I must've looked like a crazy person, because the eyes of the young woman were bright with worry as they flickered towards something over my shoulder. I froze._

"_What is it...? What's going on…?"_

"_It's fine." The woman nodded at someone behind me. "I think he's awake if you want to speak with him…"_

_Panting, I looked up to find Mikoto standing above me. She stared back at me with her cold, Genome eyes._

"_Zidane," she greeted._

"_Mikoto – !" I coughed in surprise. "How did you – No, not important, we got a – got a problem – "_

_A faint emotion stirred in Mikoto's eyes. Her lip twitched. "I am aware. I am here because our brother called out to me."_

"_What…?"_

_I suddenly noticed movement behind Mikoto. I watched in horror as several people rose up from the floor, dragging a struggling body with them. The older woman – Shamila – was barking orders at the villagers to put Kuja on the bed. It was the first time I'd seen him with my own eyes since we'd passed out in the snow. He looked absolutely _horrible_. He'd gone from pale to gray, and his hair hung limp and wet in his thinning face. He growled something angrily at one of the villagers and tried to fight away. _

"_Let me go…!" he shouted hoarsely._

"_Mikoto…" I couldn't take my eyes off Kuja as they tried to shove him down. "T-tell me what's going on…"_

"_Kuja is trying to defeat Garland," she said calmly._

_I blinked and tried to shake the fuzz from my head. "Uh… okay… What?" _

_Shamila waved an angry hand through the air. Kuja passed out like he'd been bludgeoned with a hammer. One of the villagers protested, but Shamila refused to back down. Mikoto had an expression of faint disapproval on her face, but otherwise didn't speak up._

"_He cannot win this fight alone," said Mikoto, turning back to me. "Our brother will need help if he is to save Gaia."_

"_Okay, I definitely suffered some head trauma."_

"_You did not." Mikoto drew her eyebrows together in confusion._

_I rolled my eyes so far back I thought they'd roll right out of my head. "For goodness' sake – just tell me what's going on, Mikoto!"_

"_I will explain quickly," she said. "Before it's too late."_

"_Too late…?" Okay, that sounded bad. Super bad. And if the blood leaking from Kuja's nose was any indication, there wasn't any time for stupid questions. I was awake now – it didn't matter how or why – and I needed to know how to make everything right. That's what I always did, wasn't it? – even if it meant making Dagger cry. I had to fix this. _

_I closed my eyes and let myself fall back against the pillows for a moment. I took several deep breaths, searching for my old strength – the strength that allowed me to fly an alien airship into a magical portal of doom._

"_Alright, Mikoto…" I murmured. "Tell me what's going on, then tell me what I have to do to fix it…" _

**A/N: And at last, we find the plot. I think it was hiding under the desk or something. Hopefully I can get the next chapter up faster and we can get that pesky plot moving.**

**Comments and criticism welcome as always! ^_^**


	6. Reborn

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took so long for this chapter to go up. The professional world gets in the way sometimes. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, despite the delay!** **Although this chapter gets a little dark at times, I intended for it to be a bit more... satisfying than usual. There are some less-than-pleasant scenes, but I would like to think that, overall, this chapter is a lot less angsty than the others, and a lot more... amusing. In a dark way.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy IX or any related aspect of the franchise.**

**Chapter 6: Reborn**

_I only let the villagers waste my time getting water because I wasn't sure how well I'd talk without it. I couldn't do much more than sit against a bunch of pillows. I must've looked like some sad invalid with my leg all bandaged and my hands shaking as I accepted the glass. I had a feeling if Amarant were there, he would've pushed me out of bed and told me to stop being such a wuss._

_"__Okay," I said after taking a sip of water. "I'm good – start talkin'."_

_The villagers in the room were glancing warily at Kuja, who had basically been magicked into a coma. Shamila swore it was the only way to keep him from using Flare Star on himself, which is apparently what he'd been in the midst of doing before Mikoto – tiny little Mikoto with her girly little arms – pulled Kuja into a stranglehold and dragged him – raving and screaming – to the ground. You have no idea how sorry I am that I missed that. I mean, I know Mikoto was meant to replace Kuja and I as the Angel of Death, but still… single-handedly choke-holding Gaia's most dangerous warmonger while he's in the middle of his most powerful spell? That's the kinda shit legends are made of. Naturally, Mikoto didn't seem particularly fazed by what she'd done. Not even a _little _bit proud. Unbelievable._

_Mikoto pulled up a chair next to the bed. "I believe this is a matter best discussed alone." She gave the villagers a pointed look. They seemed pretty annoyed, which I can totally understand after all the shit they must've dealt with. Shamila shooed them out while simultaneously telling Mikoto __that she was not __going anywhere, thank you very much. Once it was the three-and-a-half of us (comatose people only count as half), Shamila said, "I am fully aware of who Kuja is. Anything you have to say to Zidane, you can say to me. I want an explanation for why I now have a scorch mark across my floor."_

_I winced. Kuja never did anything halfway. Mikoto hardly seemed to notice the comment._

_"Garland is moving forward with the Assimilation."_

_"__Wait, hold up." I threw back my water like it was liquor. I was gonna need my voice for this one. "Garland's _dead_, Mikoto. Kuja took the liberty of kicking him off a cliff and then burning down the planet." The look on Shamila's face was totally worth it._

_"__Did he not speak with you through Memoria?" Mikoto frowned. _

_"__Well, yeah, but…"_

_"__Did you not question how that was possible?"_

_"__Uh… magic?"_

_Mikoto gave me a look that, in subtle Genome terms, meant, "what, are you stupid?"_

_I gave her a feeble smile. "Uh oh, looks like somebody's inheriting Kuja's long-suffering face…"_

_Mikoto was not amused. That's when I realized I was gonna spend the rest of my life __with two bitchy siblings. Lucky me, eh?_

_"Garland was once created as we were," said Mikoto, returning the topic to important matters. "He is nothing more than a vessel for a soul. For five thousand years, Garland divided souls for the resurrection of Terra. This could only be accomplished through the death of the host body, thus the need for war. Unfortunately, Kuja discovered a very dangerous technology that allowed him to manipulate souls and create a spiritually magnetic form of magic. Garland has had twelve years to study it."_

_"__What the hell would Garland do with a soul-magnet that he can't do with the Iifa Tree?" _Damn _my leg was itchy…_

_"__The tree require the death of the host body. Garland discovered that he could manipulate Kuja's technology to get around certain restrictions. Garland removed his own soul from his body, yet continued to live. Garland's entire being exists within the red jewel he wears in his armor. Kuja constructed the jewel himself, as a prototype for the Invincible."_

_"__Uh… what?"_

_Mikoto had _godly _amounts of patience. "Garland's body is dead, but the jewel still lives. It contains all his memories. Garland planted the jewel somewhere strategic so that he could continue his plans."_

_"__So… what?" I raised an eyebrow. "So he just floats around like a ghost and shouts 'boo!' every now and then? What good does any of this do him?"_

_Mikoto obviously had no idea what I was talking about, and didn't care. It was eerie, her resemblance to the young Kuja I'd seen in my dreams. To __think I could've grown up like that…_

_"__Without a body, Garland is free to move through reality."_

_"__Er..." I scratched my head, confused. "Realities like Memoria?"_

_"__Yes. Memoria is one such reality. It is the realm of memories. Garland can exist in any realm, including the realm of souls, which leaks into Gaia as Mist."_

_ I froze, remembering what Kuja said to me in my dream. "The Iifa Tree… Garland put his soul inside the Iifa Tree, didn't he…?"_

_ Mikoto nodded. "Yes. The tree connects Gaia and Terra. When Terra burned, Garland was able to fall to Gaia, where he allowed his body to die in the roots. The jewel remained behind as a failsafe."_

_My eyes widened. "It __was him_!_He's the reason the Iifa Tree attacked us!"_

_Yes." Mikoto nodded grimly. "He hoped to kill you both and reclaim your souls, but you and Kuja escaped."_

So _that's_ why Kuja teleported us both out,_I realized._He probably suspected Garland was tied to the attack somehow…_The realization left me feeling sick with guilt. If I hadn't been there – if Kuja hadn't realized Garland's plans – he would've just let himself die in the roots… He never would've struggled home with me…_

_"__With Garland controlling the tree, he can speed up the Assimilation at the expense of Gaia's atmosphere."_

_"__The snow…" I whispered, lost in thought. "Crap, we gotta stop him…"_

_Mikoto finally looked unsure. "Many years ago, Garland ordered the destruction of Madain Sari. He believed the Eidolons were a threat to the Assimilation. Now – "_

_"_We're the_ biggest threat…" The blood drained from my face. "The three of us. The Angels of Death."_

_"__Yes." Mikoto had the audacity to look impressed with my problem-solving skills. "We are a threat Garland wishes to remove. He has attacked my mind several times, but fails to defeat me. I am too strong, both physically and mentally. It's his own fault, really. He should not have made me strong enough to resist his power." Mikoto glanced at Kuja and frowned. "Unfortunately, Kuja has always been susceptible..."_

_"__...I don't understand." I rubbed my forehead tiredly._

_"__Unlike Gaians, Genomes exist in the physical world, and cast shadows in the realm of souls. When Kuja's body weakened, Garland launched a mental attack. Garland wants the power contained in Kuja's soul, but without the components that made Kuja so difficult to control. Garland wants to strip it of its individuality. Kuja has been fighting Garland for days now."_

_Was __that pride I heard in Mikoto's voice? I tried not to smile._

_"__Garland did not anticipate such retaliation, so he drives himself farther into Kuja's mind, drawing out the darkness to weaken his reserve."_

_It took me a moment to process what Mikoto was saying. "Wait…" I struggled to sit up. "Are you saying Garland is in Kuja's head_ right now_. driving him crazy?!"_

_"__So it would seem." Mikoto shrugged in a very Gaian fashion. "Kuja must suffer to be defeated. He is too strong otherwise." Mikoto's practical tone was eerie. It was as if she'd researched how to defeat Kuja. I wondered if Garland had planned for Mikoto to kill Kuja at some point. I'm positive Mikoto would've done it, too..._

_"__Garland's soul is gaining power as he absorbs other souls from the tree," Mikoto continued. "It is similar to how Kuja achieved Trance. With Kuja weakened by regrets, Garland decided to turn his attack against you. Kuja fractured his soul and chased Garland into the spirit world to try and stop him. His understanding of spiritual magic is extremely advanced."_

_"__Is that why Zidane shares Kuja's memories?" Shamila spoke up for the first time, making me jump. She'd been standing so still beside me that she could've been furniture. I was surprised she could keep up with the conversation, given the fact that she knew absolutely nothing about Genomes and Terra's Great Lord Asshole._

_"__Yes." Mikoto nodded. "Kuja hoped that fracturing his soul would leave the curse behind while he made his move. Unfortunately, Garland's attack is too strong. It's permeated into every aspect of Kuja's being."_

_It was chilling to realize I'd been watching Kuja being mentally tortured for days. Obviously, Kuja didn't have an enjoyable childhood, but the dreams had been __so terrible. I had never realized… Dagger's mother… I shuddered and pushed the memory from my mind. Even when I tried not to think about it, I could still see that woman lying in the boat with her hair floating around her. Kuja had both mourned that woman and condemned her to die. I wondered if Kuja found it as difficult to remember that sunny day as I did. I hated the fact that I would have to live with it forever._

_"__Shouldn't I have noticed this?" I muttered. "All this going on in my brain, or my 'shadow in another universe' or whatever?"_

_Mikoto shrugged. "I think Kuja's memories suppressed any awareness you had that something was wrong."_

_"__Plus you were sick and vomiting on people." Shamila's voice was dry. "The fact that you occasionally regained consciousness was shocking."_

_"__Genomes have a natural base level endurance roughly 37% stronger than Gaians," said Mikoto. I couldn't believe Kuja – melodramatic, drama queen Kuja – had once talked the same way._

_"__That is the only explanation for how Kuja is still alive," said Shamila. "At first, it seemed as if the brothers shared an identical delirium, yet Kuja seemed to alternate between crazed and utterly defeated. He did not seem to know where he was or what was truly happening around him. The last couple days, he simply faded. We assumed he would pass quietly, but today, he returned to raving." Shamila looked more irritated than anything._

_"__The longer Kuja's soul is separated from his body, the more his body is weakened," Mikoto explained. "Forcibly removing a soul – even by choice – takes a terrible toll on the body. Every time Kuja chases after Garland, he risks his body dying. It is in his nature to fight until death."_

_My head was spinning with such an information overload. "Wait, are you saying Kuja has been, like… entering my body?! Because, seriously… ew."_

_There was that dry, Kuja-like look again. "It is no different from receiving a telepathic thought."_

_"__So this Garland person - " Shamila cut me off before I could protest. "It sounds as if he's won."_

_I furrowed my brows. "Come again?"_

_"__Kuja tried to end the suffering today. That means Garland has overpowered him."_

_Surprisingly, Mikoto shook her head. "Kuja is weakened, yes, but it is not in his nature to give up. He chose to end his life for another purpose. He hoped that by letting his body die, he could lend his power to Zidane."_

_It took me way too long to process what Mikoto was saying._

_"__Kuja's power… to me?"_

_"__Yes."_

_"__What?"_

_"__You are a Genome, made to absorb souls. It is no different from achieving Trance through the power of Queen Brahne's rage. Kuja's soul is a spirit of near-absolute hatred, and he wants to die and give you that power. Armed with such a Trance, you may stand a chance against Garland."_

_"__Then why did you stop Kuja from killing himself?" Shamila's voice was cold and pragmatic. I struggled not to give her a piece of my mind. It looked like Mikoto was holding back too._

_"__The reason," she said with forced calmness. "Is because I believe Kuja is wrong. He and I have communicated, but I have been unable to convince him of the folly in his logic. I believe the three of us can overcome Garland far better as comrades. Even powered by Kuja's hatred, Zidane is but one man, and he does not understand these magics as Kuja does. Furthermore, Kuja's hatred does not have the same meaning for him. Such a power would thin in Zidane's hands. He is not the right person to wield it."_

_"__You callin' me weak?" I raised an eyebrow._

_"__No. You merely lack Kuja's animosity. You do not enjoy harming others – even those you hate. I am not even sure you __actually can hate - not as Kuja does. Unfortunately, he will not listen to me. If we do not act quickly, we will lose our most valuable ally."_

_"__Good luck to him." Shamila smirked. "I was not the royal family's White Mage for no reason. If Kuja can shake himself from the spell I've put him under, then he is a god."_

_"__Kuja will find a way." I sighed. "Don't underestimate him. He once tore a hole through reality, tra-la-la-ed through the planet's soul, and blew up the source of all life as we know it."_

_Shamila gave me an impressively bland expression. "Is that all…?"_

_"__I think that about covers it."_

_Mikoto interrupted before Shamila could speak her mind "Zidane, it is imperative that you convince Kuja of his folly. He will listen to you - I know it. Garland is moving quickly, claiming souls from the snow. We have but weeks."_

_"__Yeah, so no pressure." I rolled my eyes. "How am I supposed to change Princess Stubborn's mind? You know how he is."_

_Mikoto shook her head. "You are you. You are Zidane. To the Genomes, you are the very symbol of Gaia, and all that it can promise us. You give us hope. Follow Kuja and remind him what he will lose. Remind him how much his hatred is worth if he does not believe in the future."_

_I bit my lip, recalling the abysmal memories I'd witnessed. If Kuja was still seeing __all that, then how the hell was I supposed to jump in there and tell him, "hey, it gets better, buddy! Come fight with me! Everything will be sunshine and puppies!" Yeah,_ so convincing_…_

_"__I do not know." I winced, realizing Mikoto was literally reading my mind. "Nothing I've said has had any effect…"_

_"__Wait." I sat up suddenly. "My brain just started working…"_

_"__Is this a rare enough occurrence that it must be announced?" asked Shamila._

_"__Ha ha,_no_. But I do think I know what to do. Mikoto, how much do you know about this spirit magic Garland and Kuja are messing with?"_

_Mikoto chewed her lip. "I studied as much as I could from the database Kuja left behind, but it was incomplete. Garland taught me some of his knowledge as well, but I do not know how much he strategically withheld."_

_"__Good enough." I waved my hand. "I've got a plan, but I'm gonna need your help."_

_"__Of course." Mikoto nodded. "As I told Kuja, three individuals working together are stronger than an army of drones."_

_"__Aaw!" I punched Mikoto weakly in the shoulder. "Somebody's learnin' the value of teamwork!"_

_Mikoto gave me a particularly Kuja-like glare. "I speak from statistical evidence, Zidane!"_

_I gave her a mischievous grin. "Uh huh."_

;

When the play ended and the houselights rose, Kuja could feel the man's eyes burning holes behind him. Smirking, he rose to his feet and followed the floral spectacle of noblemen down the aisle. Dressed in a bell-sleeved purple coat with silver buttons, Kuja blended perfectly into the perfume of rich, upper crust society. His boots were made from the finest dragon leather, and his tail was tucked into pants made of dark snakeskin. Leutwin had been right about his appearance. The first time Kuja dressed as a nobleman, the people of Treno stared at him as though he were a feast laid upon a golden table. Kuja had come to understand what the Gaians did and did not consider "attractive." As it turned out, Garland – whether intentionally or by accident – had created Kuja with Gaia's ideal beauty. Between his shimmering silver hair, his angular eyes, his delicate features, and his lithe figure, Kuja struck the perfect balance between masculinity and exotic, feminine charms. It was amazing how much easier it was to exploit the Gaians when they were following him about like children.

In the courtyard, the night air was warm. Stars sparkled brilliantly over the garish garden of nobles. Sipping fine wine and clutching useless parasols, the rich drawled about the deep symbolism of the play and gossiped about one another. Kuja accepted a drink from a passing servant and made his way over to the stone wall overlooking the canal. The breeze fluttered through the feathers in his hair. Across the water, he could see the manor he was renting with the money he made selling exotic treasures. He finally understood the value of money in Gaian society. Leutwin had died for it, after all. The rich were the only Gaians destined to succeed in their lives. It was an utterly flawed system, but that was hardly Kuja's problem. It only made his job easier.

A year in Treno, yet already whispers were everywhere. Who was he, this mysterious, silver-haired noble? Where did he come from? For all their talk, none of the nobles had yet been brave enough to approach him. Kuja allowed their inflated gossip to turn him into a legend.

There was only one man in the city Kuja knew would approach him. He'd researched everything there was to know about Treno. Yes, there was only one man in the city who believed himself powerful enough to speak with the mysterious nobleman.

"…Strange is the man who stands in a crowd but faces the sea."

Kuja sipped his drink to hide his grin as he turned around. The newcomer was a young man in his early thirties, with long, dark hair tied into a ponytail. He had a well-trimmed beard and dark eyes. Over a silk shirt, he wore a red, velvet coat.

"Do you call me strange?" Kuja raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps. It is not often a young man appears in the Dark City without fanfare or parade. It is even stranger that such a man would attend nearly _every_ event in the city, yet speak to no one."

Kuja smirked. "Perhaps I find the company of fine art more interesting than the company of those who pretend to appreciate it."

The man laughed in surprise. "Is that so? Well, it seems the rumors about you are untrue."

"Oh? And what are these rumors?"

"That you are a porcelain doll: beautiful to look at, but with nothing to say."

"Ah. Well then." Kuja turned back to the water, admiring the way the twin moons shimmered across its surface. "In that case, they are right."

"I did not say I believed them." The man stepped beside Kuja and rested his forearms on the wall.

"I see." Kuja took another sip of his drink. "Well, I do not care what they think. They have _everything_ to say, yet their words mean nothing at all."

"Too true," the man agreed. "Their babbling grows most tiresome. I do not blame you for preferring the babble of the canal. But I do wonder, where does this young man come from, that he cares so little for the slander of the nobility?"

Kuja gave a delicate shrug. "From a land you have not heard of."

"Your accent is quite unfamiliar."

"I imagine you would not be familiar with the accent of a land you have not heard of."

"Catty little thing, aren't you?"

Kuja finally turned to face the stranger. "Is this not the Dark City Treno? Is not every tongue in this city barbed?"

The man chuckled. "Good point. Well, I beg pardon if I offended you…" He paused, waiting for a name. Kuja returned to his study of the water.

"Kuja."

"Kuja… That's quite an interesting name. And your surname?"

"For all intents and purposes, I am just Kuja."

"How intriguing. Surely you understand my desire to know more about this mysterious man who is just Kuja."

Kuja smirked. "I can understand, certainly. The question is whether or not the mysterious man is willing to divulge more than what he has already said."

The stranger laughed. "Well _I_, for one, am certainly willing to try."

"Then tell me," said Kuja, turning to face his companion. "The name of this man who would waste his time drawing words from a porcelain doll."

The man gave Kuja a perplexed look. "You do not already know me...?"

Kuja took another sip of blood-red wine and smirked. "Of course I know you, Lord Brennen…"

;

_It was impossible not to jostle my bad leg. There was simply no way to rest – even a single hour of real sleep would've been a blessing, but it didn't seem like that was in the cards for me. I tried to remind myself that this was what Kuja was going __through all_ the time now_, and I was being a baby. Mikoto was seated nearby, frowning as she concentrated on her study of the spirit world._

_"__Magic does not come easily to me…" she murmured._

_"__Join the club."_

_"__I can only rely on science. I cannot override Garland's magic, but I can see how it cuts through Kuja's mind. Trying to pull you from those pathways is nearly impossible. They are deep ruts. It would be like trying to push a boulder from a trench."_

_"__Did you just call me fat?" _

_Mikoto gave me a confused look. "I do not understand your meaning."_

_"Bah, whatever." I yawned loudly. "Did you __make any progress?"_

_"__A little."_

_"__Kuja was kind of a creep back in the day, wasn't he?"_

_Mikoto ignored me. "I must continue my work. You should too."_

_"__Yeah, says the girl who doesn't have to watch the world's most demented play, starring Kuja. __Right now we're in_Act III: The Ass Kisser._"_

_Mikoto closed her eyes. "If you want this over quickly, then get it right."_

Brat.

;

"Surely you jest."

Kuja shrugged and pierced the boiled egg with the tines of his fork. "I do not think it so farfetched that a man from a distant continent has never tried the eggs of an Ironite Dragon. As someone who _owns_ a dragon, I find the concept mildly disturbing."

Lord Brennen gaped at Kuja. "You _own_ a dragon?"

"Yes. She is a lovely creature, with white-feathered wings."

"A dragon… with _feathers?_"

Kuja bit into the egg and felt the yolk spill into his mouth. The taste was not unpleasant, he supposed, but it felt like eating an eyeball. "Yes. That is how I came here."

"You flew to the Mist Continent on a feathered dragon?" Lord Brennen chuckled in disbelief. "You are some mythical creature, Kuja."

"Lucky for you, then."

Lord Brennen snorted. "Why did you not just take a boat?"

"Truthfully, I do not like boats…" Kuja frowned and set down his fork.

"I would like to see this dragon sometime." Lord Brennen took a sip of wine. The night air felt cool on the veranda. Already, the late summer breeze was giving way to the crisp winds of fall.

"Well, I do not know if my dragon wishes to see you." Kuja smirked. "She bites."

"Like dragon like master." Lord Brennen chuckled.

"Please." Kuja rolled his eyes. "My words may sting, but I _hardly_ bite."

"I wonder…" Brennen gave him a mischievous look. Kuja raised an eyebrow.

"Ah."

"They talk, you know," said Brennen. "They say I have fallen for a beautiful rose covered in thorns."

"They are not wrong."

"They think me a fool."

"They are not wrong again."

"Then you sip from a fool's glass, and eat at a fool's table."

"Better to sip from a fool's glass than to be a painted whore."

Lord Brennen's eyes widened. "…Is that what they are saying?"

"No." Kuja shrugged. "And that is why this rose has so many thorns. I do not keep company for mere carnal pleasures, Lord Brennen, nor does a rose have any need for jewels. If that is how you or any other sees me, then they do not at all know me."

Brennen frowned. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to imply… I am merely frustrated. But I suppose if you were not such an infuriating puzzle, I would have lost interest, as I have with all the others."

"I don't doubt it." Kuja jabbed his fork into another egg and watched the yolk bleed across the plate. "But I think you will find that losing interest in me is quite impossible."

"Oh ho."

A servant appeared to refill Brennen's glass. Before he could leave, Brennen lashed out and grabbed the man's arm.

"A word." Brennen leaned in and lowered his voice dangerously. "Last night's guests noted that the wine did not taste of the vintage they have come to expect when I entertain. Is there something I should know…?" Brennen gazed up at the servant with raised eyebrows. The servant's throat bobbed, but he managed to maintain an air of calm.

"I shall look into it, sir. If one of the cooks is stealing wine, I will take appropriate action."

"See that you do." Brennen gave the servant's arm a rough shove. "Also, the chrome spear from Burmecia is a fake. Have the guards pay a visit to the merchant and have them test its authenticity on him."

The servant nodded. "Of course, sir."

Once the servant was gone, Kuja sighed. "You have a harsh sense of justice."

"Hmph." Brennen sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. "I run a business, Kuja. This auction house has been in my family for generations. My father ran his business like a battle commander, as did his father before him. Auction houses are about efficiency and reputation. If I sold a counterfeit weapon to a king's cousin, for example, they could bring the entire house down. An auction house must function like a well-oiled machine. We receive the product, appraise the product, and auction it off. There is no room for error. A machine is only as efficient as its weakest component."

Kuja's hand tightened imperceptibly around his fork. "Of course. You know best in these matters. We do not have auction houses where I come from."

"But surely you have thieves. You must understand _something_ about justice."

"I do." Kuja tried not to smile. "Trust me."

"Lord Brennen?" The servant reappeared on the veranda. Brennen set down his wine with an annoyed expression.

"What?"

"There is a duke here to see you. He says it's urgent."

"Fine." Brennen threw his napkin on the table and stood up with a growl. "I will be there in a moment. My apologies." He gave Kuja a quick bow. Kuja returned it with his sweetest smile.

"Roses seem to spend their whole lives waiting."

Lord Brennen smirked, then took his leave. The servant made to follow, but Kuja lashed out and grabbed his wrist. The servant looked up in surprise.

"Sir?"

"A question." Kuja gazed up at him through locks of silver hair. "How long have you been in the service of Lord Brennen?"

"…Ten years now, I would think."

"I see. And you handle all his affairs? Appointments? Paperwork?"

The servant nodded, confused.

"And do you… approve of his practices?"

The servant hesitated. "I am sworn to his service, sir. Lord Brennen has been very good to me."

"Has he now?" Before the servant could pull away, Kuja tugged the sleeve of his coat back to reveal a dark bruise encircling his forearm. Kuja's lip curled at the sight of it.

"Ah, I..." The servant swallowed thickly. "I'm afraid I was somewhat clumsy in the kitchen and – "

"Never lie in the company of liars." Kuja released the man's arm in disgust. "I am aware of _everything_ that occurs in this house. Lord Brennen struck you with a candleholder when you knocked over a glass of wine."

"It was my fault." The servant was sweating now, despite the cool air. "The wine was a gift from – "

"I do not care." Kuja sat back in his chair. "Do not think me some delicate flower. For many, that mistake is their last. Across the sea, I have killed _many_ people. I have done things that would make a normal man faint like a maiden. You cannot see the blood on my hands, but do not think for a moment that I have not _bathed_ in it. Striking someone with a candleholder would seem child's play to me. I have very few morals, sir, if I have any at all. However… there is but _one_ _thing_ in this world I cannot tolerate." Kuja stared darkly at the servant. "I do not tolerate those who abuse their authority. Do you understand?"

"…Yes, sir."

"And your name?"

"Leumis, sir." The servant's face was stormy with confusion. "Sir, I… I do not know what to say…"

"Then say nothing." Kuja waved Leumis away. "Simply remember what I have told you tonight. A day will come when you will have need of my words."

"O-of course, sir…" Leumis bowed and then quickly fled the veranda. Kuja settled back in his chair and glared at the red moon.

He hoped the old bastard was staring right back.

;

_"__It was a step in the right direction." There was sweat on Mikoto's forehead. With the moonlight shining through the window, she looked sorta sick. "Garland is strong."_

_"__What's it like? In the fancy-schmancy spirit world?"_

_"__Dark."_

_"__That's very helpful."_

_Mikoto closed her eyes. "Kuja has informed me that he blames you for this ongoing battle. He says you will pay for not doing what he tells you."_

_"__Tell him to shove it."_

_"__If Garland overpowers him, he will not allow you any say in this matter."_

_"__Then tell him he's an asshole."_

_Mikoto's lip twitched. "You have a say in __this now, Zidane."_

_"__I tried to make myself known." I gripped my hair in frustration. "But I'm just wandering through his memories. I can't jump up and down waving my arms in the air. What's happened already happened. That's the very definition of a memory."_

_"__What we remember is biased, but the mind records the truth."_

_"__Yeah, I know." I sighed wearily. "But I'm pretty sure I know how this story's gonna end…"_

;

"I am the luckiest man in the city."

Kuja snorted and pushed Lord Brennen's hand away from his hair. "In public? Cur."

"Let them talk." Brennen sneered at the partygoers twirling about the ballroom. The auction house had the honor of hosting the after party for Queen Stella's birthday – a weeklong affair of food, drink, dancing, and false praise. The prissy old bird had spared no expense, and even fitted Lord Brennen's ballroom with chandeliers dripping in diamonds. It may have been the queen's birthday, but every eye in the ballroom was on Lord Brennen and his mysterious companion. Their eyes glittered with envy. The noblemen – even those with more… _conservative_ tastes – were envious that their lord shared the company of such a beautiful courtier. The noblewomen were envious that they did not _look_ like the courtier.

"I thought you liked the attention." Lord Brennen leaned in, brushing his nose against Kuja's cheek. Kuja elbowed him away.

"Please. You insult the queen."

"Fuck the queen."

"Sir!" Kuja hissed in alarm while simultaneously trying not to laugh. "What if someone hears you?!"

"Over this racket?" Lord Brennen gestured towards the orchestra, which had been playing the same waltz for at least half an hour. "At this rate, the music will be responsible for more deaths than the Cross Killer."

Kuja snorted. "I believe Treno's serial killers only commit their crimes in the slums. Most of his victims would count themselves lucky to die in front of an orchestra as expensive as this one."

"Not fond of the music?" A fat old duke approached them with a tittering Burmecian woman on his arm. Kuja tried not to scowl in distaste.

"Oh, you know." Lord Brennen shrugged. "It's only _my_ house. Why should _I have_ any say in the entertainment?"

"Queen Stella certainly has particular tastes." The duke glanced towards the ornate, golden throne they had erected for her to sit upon. She was fanning her feathers with a lace kerchief. The old bird was quite drunk.

"She does indeed," Brennen agreed.

"As do you." The duke gave Kuja a pointed look. "Tell me, my lord, from what exotic menagerie did you pluck this lovely little bird?"

Kuja smirked. "Despite the feathers, I am no _bird_, my lord."

"I know, I know." The duke roared with laughter. "You are simply too easy to ruffle, Lord King."

Living in Treno, Kuja came to realize the importance of surnames and titles. The tiniest minutia of conduct was dictated by one's place in the royal food chain. Thus, Kuja chose what he considered a _prophetic_ surname.

"And you too easily fall for false anger," he teased.

"Well, it is hard to tell your anger from your jests when you speak with such a peculiar accent." The duke's mustache twitched with amusement. His Burmecian escort eyed Kuja from beneath a cascade of golden hair.

"It comes in handy," said Kuja. "To be able to fool others merely by speaking as always."

The duke sighed. "You are a lucky man, Lord Brennen. There are few flowers left to pluck from Treno's gardens these days."

"So it would seem." Brennen took a sip of his drink. It was the sixth one he'd had, but Kuja could hardly blame him. If the party carried on much longer, Kuja suspected he, himself, would need to drink a barrel to keep the false smile on his face.

"The both of us had to seek more distant lands for companionship," said the duke. "You found feathers, and I found fur." He sniffed lovingly at the Burmecian woman's golden hair. She giggled, pressing a clawed hand against her muzzle. She was dressed in a fine, Alexandrian gown, but it paled in comparison to the jewels hanging around her thin neck. Kuja could tell from Lord Brennen's stiff smile that he, too, was somewhat disgusted.

"How long is it now, since you arrived in the City of Night?" The duke asked Kuja.

"Two years, I believe."

"And a year in my company," said Lord Brennen.

"Yes." Kuja sneered. "Because it took you a full year to summon enough courage to approach me."

The duke laughed heartily at that. "The rose has thorns indeed!"

"It certainly keeps things interesting." Lord Brennen threw back the rest of his wine.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I must be going." The duke lovingly tickled his Burmecian under the chin. "But let us meet for tea some time, little bird." He smiled at Kuja. "It's dreadfully hard to find good conversation these days."

"Don't flatter yourself." Kuja smirked. "You are hardly good conversation to me."

The duke burst out laughing, and Kuja could hear his guffaws long after he and his escort were swallowed by the crowd. Lord Brennen sighed wearily.

"That was about all the socializing I could handle. Shall we retire?"

Kuja shrugged. "I suppose it is getting late." He accepted Lord Brennen's arm as they made their way up the velvet staircase. "And the music _truly_ is dreadful."

Kuja could only imagine what the guests below were saying. They could fill their mouths with whatever lies best suited their stories, but the truth was that Kuja had never lain with Lord Brennen. He strung the man along, certainly, but Brennen's advances were always met with a firm shove. Using the flowery dialogue always used by the chaste heroines of Gaia's plays, Kuja insisted that it was too soon for them to participate in such… excursions. Kuja refused to be some "exotic whore." As the one-year anniversary of their first meeting approached, however, Kuja knew Lord Brennen's patience was wearing thin.

Very few questioned Kuja's relationship with Lord Brennen. In fact, it was popular opinion that Kuja was exactly what the ill-tempered man needed. Brennen never shouted or raved in Kuja's company, so the nobility began to equate his presence with positive experiences. Many of the nobles waited until they were sure Kuja was around before dealing with Lord Brennen. As far as Treno was concerned, Kuja was exactly what the city needed: a beautiful courtier with a sharp tongue and a short grip on Brennen's leash. Kuja even hosted some of the auctions when business was particularly busy…

Kuja mused about his rapid rise to power as he threw his coat over a chair and sat at the vanity table. Through the reflection in the mirror, he could see Lord Brennen muttering as he began undoing the lapels on his coat. Muttering was one of the first signs that the man would have a tantrum.

There was a knock at the door. Lord Brennen growled angrily and threw it open with his coat half-buttoned. Leumis was standing on the other side.

"Excuse the intrusion, my lord."

"For goodness' sake - this had better be good!" Brennen barked.

"It will only take a moment, sir." Leumis cleared his throat nervously. "I'm afraid your signature is required for the airship we're sending to collect the armoire of Duchess Mettles in Lindblum."

"Oh, for the love of - " Lord Brennen snatched the quill and parchment from Leumis's hands and scratched his signature across the bottom. "It was supposed to go out _hours_ ago! Tell the pilot if the armoire does not make it here by tomorrow morning, he will no longer have hands to steer!"

"Of course, sir…" Leumis bowed his head and left the room, but not before catching Kuja's eye in the mirror. Kuja gave him a faint nod.

"He is such a pain in the ass," Lord Brennen muttered, slamming the door. "Ten years, always on my ass about _something_. You would think he was my mother!"

Kuja ignored Brennen as he brushed his hair. There was no point in trying to calm the lord down when his temper flared.

"My whole life!" Brennen continued ranting as he threw his coat on the floor. "Everyone is always nagging – always telling me what to do! Everyone is always _denying_ me things! And you – " Lord Brennen stormed up behind Kuja. "You are the same as the rest of them! Thorny rose indeed!"

"You are drunk," said Kuja blandly.

"Am I?!" Brennen seized Kuja's hairbrush and tossed it across the floor. "Well, I am sober enough to realize when I am being made a fool! That fat pig of a duke is off fucking a _rat_, and he does not even have _half_ the money I do!"

"I never asked for your money." Kuja stared calmly into Brennen's eyes through the mirror.

"Oh, no, of course not!" Brennen grasped Kuja's shoulder and spun him around. "You never ask for _anything!_ That's how you justify never giving me anything _I_ ask for!"

Kuja frowned lightly. "You cannot always have what you want, my lord."

"Oh, but I can." Brennen reached out and seized the collar of Kuja's shirt. "I have money, Lord _King_, and absolute power in this city. You may come from an exotic land, and you may have ill begotten wealth, but you are a just tiny bird I can _crush_ between my fingers. I could shove you in a tiny cage to use whenever I'd like!"

Brennen grabbed the front of Kuja's shirt and wrenched it open, causing several buttons to scatter across the floor. Lord Brennen had never seen Kuja without a shirt, and his eyes widened in shock when he saw the violent scars and burns criss-crossing his chest.

"What the – "

Kuja seized Brennen by the throat and drove him towards the bed with impossible strength. Brennen could do little more than squeak as Kuja shoved him down and pinned him to the sheets. Kuja clutched his throat with one hand, preventing him from speaking. Brennen's mouth gaped open in shock.

"Little bird, am I?" Kuja leaned down until their noses almost touched. "Unfortunate that you think so, my lord, because all this time that it was not a _bird_ you were courting, but an Angel of _Death_."

With a wave of his hand, Kuja cast Paralyze and Mute, then backed away. Lord Brennen lay flat on his back like an insect pinned to a board. His eyes were wide with terror.

"I had not planned to do this so quickly." Kuja strode over to the dresser and began rifling through his clothes. "But everything fell into place as if by divine intervention." Kuja felt his fingers brush against something hard at the bottom of the drawer. "The people love me, Lord Brennen, but they do not love you. _No one_ loves you." Kuja started back towards the bed. "You abuse your power - shouting at those who wish you well and striking down those that serve you. As for the poor, well, you treat them like animals. You are a cruel man, Lord Brennen." Kuja pressed a sharp dagger against the man's throat.

"But so am I."

Brennen watched in mute terror as Kuja moved the blade beneath his eye and ran it along his lashes.

"Do you recognize this blade, my lord?"

Brennen shook his head as best as he could while paralyzed. Kuja chuckled at the fear in his eyes.

"No, of course you wouldn't. You don't do your own dirty work. Easier to send minions to do it, and then have them killed when they don't succeed. Four years ago, this blade was used by one of your henchmen to kill a thief. That thief's name was Leutwin, and he stole from you because his brother was sick. When your henchmen found Leutwin's home without him in it, they killed the brother while he lay defenseless in bed - such is the extent of the fear your employees have of you." Kuja raised the dagger and ran his tongue along the blade. He could almost taste the blood of the shopkeeper he'd killed with it.

"I thought it might be beneficial - " Kuja pressed his palm against Lord Brennen's chest. " - For you to know what it feels like to lie in bed, completely helpless and waiting for the axe to fall."

Kuja eased back his spells so he could hear Lord Brennen's weak, pitiful wail as he slowly cut a line down his chest. Dots of blood blossomed along the wound.

"Oh, is _that_ what pain feels like?" Kuja cocked his head as he climbed onto the bed and leaned over Brennen. "It must be _terrible_."

"P-please… please…" Brennen's words were barely a whisper as the Mute spell choked him. Kuja raised an eyebrow.

"Please? Oh, that is _very_ ballsy, my lord. Very ballsy, indeed. I'm sure little Safi begged for his life, too, but his pleas did not matter. They matter even less to me now." Kuja slowly dragged the knife across Brennen's chest in the opposite direction. The lord's tears overflowed and rolled down his cheeks. Kuja sat back and sneered.

"You are a pitiful sight, crying like a child." He jabbed the tip of the blade beneath Lord Brennen's chin and tilted his head back. "I've waited a long time for this day. Do not think childish tears will sway me. They never have before."

"Leumis!" Brennen cried weakly. _"Leumis!"_

"Leumis isn't coming." Kuja bared his teeth in a grin. "And even if he did, for what reason would he help you? You have inflicted pain upon him for years. I imagine, were he here, he would stay to enjoy the show." Kuja dragged his blade down the side of Brennen's face where Leutwin himself had born a scar. The blood mixed with Brennen's tears, leaving pink dots on the sheets.

"We are all sinners here." Kuja ran his finger along the cut, then smeared it across Brennen's throat. "The thief steals and the guards kill and the authority laughs, thinking he is immune. You may have been the biggest villain in Treno, but now there is an even bigger villain, and he _hates you_."

Kuja slashed the knife across Brennen's throat. The lord let out a wet, garbled cry of surprise. Blood poured from his severed larynx. Kuja set the knife aside to enjoy the show. Brennen gaped at him, eyes swimming with pain and betrayal. Kuja smiled and pressed a bloody finger to his lips.

"Silence, Lord Brennen. If you make a sound as you die, they say your soul will be trapped forever."

Kuja watched Brennen asphyxiate slowly, knowing the lord was aware of his life ticking away second by second. Brennen's terror turned to panic, then desperation. His mouth worked like a fish out of water. Tears were pouring from his eyes.

Several minutes passed before Lord Brennen's heaving chest stilled and his terrified eyes glazed over. Kuja drew in a long, cold breath of air. It felt like he was emerging from a dark sea and breathing for the first time. His mind had not felt so clear in years.

Kuja silently slid off the bed. The door opened a moment later, and Leumis stepped inside. His eyes darted to the corpse for a moment before returning to Kuja.

"The party is going to end within the hour, sir."

Kuja nodded, wiping his fingers off on the bed. "Thank you, Leumis. You have been most wonderful. Was he sober enough to leave a proper signature?"

"Yes, sir. Lord Brennen left his entire estate to you."

"Excellent." Kuja tossed his hair back with a sigh. "I am going to shower now. Leave the body on the bed and alert the guards while I'm bathing. Tell them you heard screams and found him like this. I'm opening the window and leaving some blood on the sill." Kuja unhooked the latch and wiped his blade across the brass. "Tell the guards you saw the killer escape through the veranda. I carved the Cross Killer's mark into Brennen's chest. That should lead the investigators on a goose chase for awhile."

"I will inform the guards right away, sir."

"There are going to be some changes around here." Kuja undid the buttons on his shirt as he strode towards the shower. "For one thing, _you_– " Kuja pointed at Leumis. " – will be promoted to auctioneer."

Leumis's eyes widened. "_Me_, sir?!"

"Yes, you. You worked for Lord Brennen longer than anyone. You know more about his business than _he_ did. He was a fool to overlook you."

"Sir, I…"

"When the dust settles and I have been declared inheritor, I will have it known that if I _ever_ find out a guard killed a thief without bringing him to me, they will die just as the thief did. Abuse of authority will no longer be tolerated."

Leumis swallowed audibly and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Now hurry along." Kuja tossed his shirt onto the floor near the bed. "I will have to put on _quite_ the performance when I discover Lord Brennen in front of the guards. I hope my acting skills do not disappoint. I suspect it will be a rather _large_ audience."

Leumis nodded. "Yes, sir."

Kuja started towards the washroom when he heard Leumis call weakly to him. "Sir?"

"Hmm?" Kuja glanced over his shoulder. Leumis hesitated, wringing his fingers.

"I was just wondering, sir… The victims of the Cross Killer... all of them were mercenaries at some point hired by the aristocracy."

"Yes, what of it?"

Leumis hesitated, licking his lips. "One of the victims, my lord… He was hired by Lord Knight to kill my brother after he bested him in a game of cards."

Kuja curled his lip. "Disgusting."

Leumis was staring at his shoes. "When I found out that the assassin had been killed by the Cross Killer… it was the first time I had been happy in many years, so... I just wanted to say… thank you, Lord King." Leumis fell into a deep bow. "For everything."

Kuja's eyes widened in surprise. Then he smiled - for once, a genuine smile.

"You're welcome."

;

_"__Mikoto, can you see the stuff that I see?"_

_"__I am not looking."_

_"__Did you know Kuja sometimes has good intentions? I mean, before all the stabbing..."_

_"__Zidane…"_

_"__Right, sorry. Not helping. Opposite of helping."_

_"__You need to use your mind more wisely."_

_"__You do realize who you're talking to, right?"_

_"__Yes. Exactly."_

_"__Hmph. You and your motivational speeches. You run a tight ship, Mikoto."_

_"__I think you're heading in the right direction."_

_"__I'll let you keep thinking that."_

;

"Is this your first trip to Alexandria, my lord?"

From the airship deck, Kuja could see the Mist Continent passing below. Rocky mountains dotted with villages broke through the surface of the Mist. In the distance, the great crystal of Alexandria sent bursts of light in every direction.

"No," said Kuja softly. "I have visited a few times, though always on unpleasant business. I wish for once I could visit for leisure."

"It will not be so bad," said Leumis. "You are here only for appearances."

Kuja smiled grimly. "Appearances indeed. I am here to be challenged, my friend. The nobility did not look favorably upon Lord Brennen. The only reason I have been invited to the queen's birthday is so that they may look upon the one who would succeed him. I imagine the circumstances of my succession twisted the farther the stories traveled from Treno. Whether the Alexandrians believe I truly loved Brennen, or killed him, I do not expect a warm reception."

"Everything has improved since you came to Treno." Leumis looked out over the tiny world below them. "The staff is happy to come to work again. The guards are no longer afraid. Efficiency is up 17%. The nobility speaks so fondly of you, Lord King. You are nothing like Lord Brennen."

Kuja frowned as Alexandria's coastline emerged over the horizon. _I would not be so sure of that…_

In truth, Kuja did not care for Alexandria. There was something messy and thoughtless about the place, like a drunken fool tripping over. Though Alexandria was not as populous as Lindblum, the streets always seemed overcrowded with mismatched anthropomorphic creatures. It was not so unusual to see amphibious Gaians mingling with half-breeds and avians and rats. There was no order to the city – no logic whatsoever. If not for the extremely tight politics of the royal family, Kuja was sure the city would have fallen apart decades ago.

Nonetheless, he could not deny that Alexandria's love of Gaian theater was unmatched by any other nation. He made it a priority to attend the play being put on in the queen's honor. It was the story of a scorned lover and exquisite revenge. The crowd gasped in horror as the lead actress staggered across the stage and plunged a sword through her husband's mistress sleeping in bed. When the woman yanked the blankets aside, however, she discovered that it was her own sister, who had been napping. The crowd fell into a hush. Kuja was amazed when the lead actress began shedding real tears. Surely the actress did not feel real sadness over a scripted death, so where did the tears come from? From what darkness did she muster such realistic despair?

When the play ended, the crowd made its way to the throne room to leave gifts for the queen. Most stayed for free liquor. Many guests were laughing heartily about Queen Brahne's "blubbering" during the performance. Kuja had barely caught a glimpse of the queen, but it seemed she was an emotional woman.

As Kuja mingled with the vapid noblemen and women, he watched the queen laughing with the Lady Hilda of Lindblum. Queen Brahne was a somewhat plump woman attempting to hide the first signs of aging with excessive makeup. Despite her unruly blond hair and somewhat sallow complexion, it was clear that her husband was madly in love. The king rested an affectionate hand on her arm and whispered something into her ear. The queen threw her head back, laughing.

Beside the queen stood a young woman in a white coat, with thick hair the color of coffee cream. Though the woman had an astonishingly beautiful face, she wore a silk eye patch and surveyed the guests with a venomous glare. At her side, her hand was clutched around the hilt of a sword.

_General Beatrix,_ Kuja noted. She was even more stunning than he'd been told. While the rumors about Alexandria's infamous all-female army seemed to hold true (Kuja had watched one lovely soldier singlehandedly throw a drunk man twice her size out the door), he'd had serious doubts about the supposed beauty of the bloodthirsty General Beatrix. As it turned out, the prattling nobles had, if anything, failed to praise her enough. Beatrix looked as gorgeous as she did intimidating. Kuja thought he might like to speak with such a woman, if he could be assured he would not lose his head in the process.

"Say hello to our new guest, Princess."

Kuja shook himself from his reverie to find a small, feathery man in a top hat and monocle. With one wing, the bird clutched the hand of a young girl in an extravagant emerald gown. Kuja was so surprised by the sudden introduction that he nearly forgot why he was standing there. His mind turned quickly, taking in the sight of the avian man and his little charge. _Princess_ the man had called her… Princess Garnet. Kuja was so startled by the sight of her that he could do nothing but stare as she fell into a polite curtsey.

"It is nice to meet you, Lord King."

_Lord King…_ thought Kuja. _Yes, I am Lord King now, __but you…_

The chocolate-brown eyes that gazed up at him seemed to peer out from a dark, stormy pier. Though her thick, dark hair was pulled back into a braid, Kuja swore it was drenched in rainwater.

_It can't be…_

"It… it's nice to meet you, Princess." Kuja quickly overcame his shock and swept into an elegant bow. "A true honor."

"What do you say, Princess?" The bird encouraged her with a light pat on the back.

"Thank you, Lord King."

There was no recognition in her eyes – no fear whatsoever. It was as though she were Sarah's twin, raised apart in an unsullied world. Kuja wondered if he was mistaken – seeing the past only because he wished to – yet he was so _sure_… and the boat _had_ washed up on the shore beneath the castle…

Kuja opened his palm and conjured a small flame, which quickly hardened into a milky stone of orange and yellow. With a dramatic sweep of his hand, he bowed and held out the jewel to the child.

"A gift for the lovely princess."

Eyes wide with astonishment, Garnet reached for the stone. She pulled back before her fingers could touch it, however, and she gave Kuja a mistrustful look.

"It is not hot, Lord King?"

Kuja chuckled. "Not at all. It is yours, Princess."

As Garnet's small fingers wrapped around the stone, Kuja studied her in amazement. _She truly remembers nothing… She even fears magic as though she has never seen it before. Could the spirit of Bahamut truly dwell inside her?!_ Kuja grimaced, recalling the hideous gash across Sarah's forehead in the boat. Perhaps the injury had been severe enough to erase her memory. But if this was truly Jane's daughter, then how had the Alexandrian royal family tricked the people into believing she was their child? She would have been six already when she washed ashore, and Kuja had heard nothing of adoption. It would have been a scandal, bringing the princess's throne rights into question.

"You are a Mage?"

Kuja turned in surprise to find Queen Brahne beside him, flanked by the beautifully frightening General Beatrix. Kuja fell into a gracious bow.

"Your Majesty," he breathed. "It is an honor to stand before you on this most auspicious day."

"Bah." Queen Brahne waved a hand through the air. "There is nothing auspicious about growing old."

"You look as lovely as you ever have." In truth, Kuja had no idea what she looked like before.

"You are kind to say so." The queen patted him jovially on the shoulder. Kuja was unaccustomed to royalty manhandling him in such a way, and by the look on General Beatrix's face, she did not approve either. "It is easy for youth to speak of age as though it is a trifle thing." Queen Brahne smoothed a hand over Princess Garnet's hair. "Now tell me, young one, what is your name?"

"I am Kuja King of the King's Auction House in Treno."

"He comes from the Forgotten Continent, I hear," said the bird man. Queen Brahne's eyes widened.

"Is this true, Lord King?"

"Yes." Kuja lied again. "I have traveled far to the Mist Continent. I apologize for any breach of custom that I may commit, as I am not yet knowledgeable in the ways of your people."

"With a face like that, you don't have to be." Queen Brahne laughed loudly at her own joke. "Now, back to my earlier question... you are a Mage?"

"A sorcerer," Kuja corrected politely. "As I am capable of more than one form of magic."

"Incredible," Queen Brahne breathed. "You are extremely talented."

"Her Highness flatters me."

"We may have use of a man with your talents." The queen plucked the stone from her daughter's hands and admired the tangle of flames caught within it. "White Mages we have aplenty, and a few who dabble in the black and red arts, but none who could truly be called a sorcerer."

"I would be pleased to aid Her Majesty in any way she required."

Queen Brahne chuckled. "And _I_ would be pleased if more young men were as polite as you. Come, Garnet, let's go rescue your father from Lord Snecket."

Kuja watched the little princess grab her mother's hand and depart. General Beatrix turned to follow, but not before giving Kuja a surprisingly venomous glare. Kuja smirked.

_At __least someone around here is sharp enough not to take me at my word…_

Once General Beatrix was gone, however, Kuja found himself torn between excitement and apprehension. If Princess Garnet was the last surviving Summoner, then the Alexandrian royal family was in possession of Eidolons. The thought left him reeling. Alexandria - the second largest nation on the continent - owned the most powerful weapons on the planet. The castle was sitting atop a powder keg with a six year fuse. The political implications were staggering. Kuja _had_ to discover the truth.

"You truly come from the Forgotten Continent, Lord King?" Doctor Tot turned his attention upon Kuja.

"I have drifted." Kuja was still somewhat distracted by the puzzle unfolding before him. "But I suppose my home could be considered the Forgotten Continent." This was not entirely a lie. Kuja had discovered an abandoned Terran palace beneath the eastern quicksand. While he had yet to move in, he had already begun making arrangements to renovate the palace. The walls seemed to squirm with ancient magics.

"Amazing." The bird man shook his feathered head. "Ah, in my enthusiasm, I forgot my manners. My name is Doctor Tot. I tutor the princess."

"A scholar, then." Kuja smiled. "That would explain your interest."

Doctor Tot's feathers ruffled in embarrassment. "I'm afraid it's hard for a man in my position to pass up such an opportunity. I heard much about you in Treno."

"Oh? Do you visit often?"

"I have an observatory where I conduct research. The city's permanent darkness makes it easier to see the stars. I spend several months a year in Treno, studying."

"How marvelous. Perhaps you can come by the auction house some time. Our attendees could use an educated mind."

Doctor Tot chuckled at the barb. "I shall see what I can do, my lord."

"So, you have tutored the princess her whole life?" Kuja jumped on the opportunity.

"Since she was old enough to study seriously," said Doctor Tot. "She's an incredibly bright young girl. She was reading within less than a year."

"How old is she now?"

"She'll be ten in two months. We're already planning a spectacular celebration. Ten is a very important coming of age in Alexandria."

"It's funny…" Kuja allowed his face to mist over with nostalgia. "The princess reminds me of a child I used to know, back when I lived on the Outer Continent. She would be about Princess Garnet's age now."

Doctor Tot seemed to physically deflate at the comment. "Is that so?"

Bolstered by the reaction, Kuja attacked. "Yes, she was a sweet child, Sarah. The resemblance is striking. Were it not for the fact that Sarah had a horn, I would swear they were twins."

"…Horn?"

"Yes, it was a unique characteristic of Sarah's people."

Kuja could feel the unease rolling off the little doctor. "You speak in the past tense. What happened to Sarah and her people?"

"Dead, I presume." Kuja lowered his gaze. "A terrible storm struck the village, destroying everything in its path. There was not a single survivor. I was a trader back then, and visited frequently. When I saw the devastation…" Kuja shook his head sadly. "I had many friends in the village. I fear I will never get over my sorrow."

Doctor Tot nodded slowly. "I see. That is a very sad story."

"Indeed. But we should not speak of tragedy on Her Majesty's birthday."

"Ah, that reminds me…" Doctor Tot looked about, pretending to be distracted. "I must speak with the queen about some editions to her speech. You won't mind if I duck out early?"

"Not at all," said Kuja, smiling. _Yes, do go speak with her…_

With a tip of his hat, Doctor Tot fluttered away. His task completed, Kuja milled about and forced small talk with the nobles. By nightfall, there was a grand feast with wine and dancing. Kuja was physically present, but his mind was far away…

Nonetheless, he was not surprised when an Alexandrian soldier chased him down in the crowds departing the party.

"Lord King!"

Kuja turned and smiled. "Yes…?"

The soldier skidded to a halt. "The king and queen request your presence."

Kuja drew his eyebrows together with feigned concern. "Indeed? How strange."

"You must come now." The woman soldier, like all the others, was brusque and stern. Kuja followed quickly, lest he risk her wrath. He was surprised to find himself led not to the throne room, but to the royal family's private chambers. The king and queen sat solemnly at an ornate, golden dining table. The room was dark, except for the flickering orange light of the candles. General Beatrix was, as always, a constant presence in the shadows.

"Your Majesties." Kuja bowed in the doorway. "This is quite a surprise. Is something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all." The king's smile was forced but not unkind as he gestured for Kuja to sit at the table. "Please, join us. We would like to speak with you about a personal matter."

When Kuja sat down, he noticed dark tear tracks running down Queen Brahne's face. She was sniffling lightly, but trying to hide it behind a silk handkerchief.

"My queen…" Kuja's eyes widened in alarm. "What ever is the matter?"

"There is nothing wrong…" Queen Brahne murmured. "It is only that we… we did not expect to ever meet someone who knew the truth."

"The truth, Your Majesty?"

"About our daughter." The king sighed heavily. "If what Doctor Tot tells us is true, then it seems you are aware that Princess Garnet was a foundling…"

"I…" Kuja hesitated. "It is true that I told the doctor of a girl who resembled Princess Garnet, but that girl is no longer with us, Your Majesty."

"I believe they are one and the same," said the king. "The truth is that the queen and I did, in fact, have a daughter named Garnet, but she… she passed away of a sudden illness when she was six. We were too devastated to tell our people. A ship was found washed ashore only two days after Garnet's passing. There was a mother and daughter inside the boat, but the mother was dead. The little girl was badly injured, but she bore a striking resemblance to our daughter. The only difference was that she had a horn on her head. In our grief, we… we were not thinking straight at the time, and so we ordered that the child's horn be removed. As it turned out, the injuries stole the girl's memories away, and so she had no recollection of her life before us. This we easily explained as a consequence of her sickness. That little girl has carried on as Princess Garnet ever since, and no one, until today, has noticed…"

"I… I am sorry for your loss," said Kuja softly. In truth, he was unexpectedly shocked by the story. It was far more disturbing than he'd expected, to realize the royal family had replaced their daughter as easily as one might replace a dog. "But I am happy to hear that at least one of the Summoners has found a home."

"Summoners?" Queen Brahne looked up at Kuja through watery, red-rimmed eyes.

"They were your daughters' people," Kuja explained. "The Summoners of Madain Sari. A truly remarkable people with the power to summon Gaia's guardian spirits. It was believed that no Summoner survived the storm, but it seems that little Sarah has found a home here in the castle."

"Who… who was she?" the queen asked softly. "Who was Sarah before the storm?"

"A rambunctious child," said Kuja, forcing a smile as he allowed himself to glimpse into the darker parts of his heart. "I was acquainted with her mother, Jane. I am not surprised to hear that Jane and Sarah made it so far from the storm. Jane was a… truly passionate woman - afraid of nothing. Sarah was much the same."

"Thank you," said the king. "For telling us this… It… it doesn't make it any easier for us, to know our daughter's dark history, but if the gods chose to destroy everything she had, then I am glad she has found a place with us here." The king lowered his voice suddenly. "I am sure I do not have to remind you that this is a _personal_ matter that must be kept absolutely secret. None may know that Princess Garnet is not our true daughter."

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Kuja. "I would never speak of this with someone outside her family…"

"You said… you said the Summoners could summon guardian spirits?" Queen Brahne looked troubled.

"Yes. Eidolons. Magnificent beasts of legend. Summoners are not able to utilize the magic until they are sixteen, however, so you need not worry about your daughter exhibiting any strange magic for a few years."

Queen Brahne nodded, though she looked more concerned than before. Her husband hummed thoughtfully to himself.

"I have heard of these Summoners," he admitted. "As mere legends told in our history books. If it is true that Garnet will come into unexpected powers, can we count on you, Lord King - as a sorcerer acquainted with her people - to assist us in the transition?"

"Of course." Kuja bowed his head while trying to hide a grin. "I would do anything to aid your daughter. Her mother was…" He ignored the fingers twisting in his heart. "…somewhat dear to me. I wish to see her daughter happy."

"Good." The king nodded. "I am glad to hear it. Well, that is all we needed to discuss with you, Lord King. We are sorry to have bothered you at this late hour."

"It was no trouble at all," said Kuja, rising to his feet. "I am always happy to help this great kingdom."

"You are a gift from the gods…" said Queen Brahne weakly. "We are forever in your debt."

Kuja shook his head, smiling. "Please, I am only happy to be of assistance." _But when the time comes, I expect the debt to be paid…_

General Beatrix escorted Kuja out of the castle. At the gates, Kuja turned to bid her goodnight, only to be met with a look of pure hatred.

"I do not know who you really are, Lord King," Beatrix hissed. "But know this: the royal family is under _my_ protection."

"General Beatrix, whatever do you mean?" Kuja gave her his most innocent smile.

"I may have one eye, Lord King, but I can see when a flower has thorns."

"Of course." Kuja's smile slowly slid from innocent to sly. "They call you the Rose of May, after all."

"Indeed," said Beatrix. "And it takes a rose to know one."

"General, I mean no harm. I am merely a trader, really. I harbor no ill will."

"See to it that what you speak is true." Beatrix's eye narrowed. "Because if I hear so much as a _whisper_ about Princess Garnet's true identity, then I may have to cut the rose and put it in a vase."

Kuja smiled thinly. "I have a feeling we will meet again, General Beatrix. I hope it is under more amicable circumstances next time."

Beatrix sneered. "That is up to you, Lord King. Good night."

Once she was gone, Kuja glanced up at the dark sky. Terra seemed to burn more brightly than ever. He could see the path now, like a trail of stars scorching across the heavens. Kuja grinned.

_God of War indeed…_

;

_The village was so cute and old-fashioned. Too bad everything was buried in snow and I couldn't see anything beyond the view from the window. Maybe I could've risked a peek outside, but that Shamila woman wasn't one to be trifled with. She was in her fifties, I think, and she had this regal air I can only assume came from serving a royal family. Her graying hair was always pulled back into a bun, and she used a Mage staff as a cane sometimes. I think she had a bad leg._

_At the moment, she was arguing with Kuja, which was pretty much a constant._

_"__So you called him a boar?! Are you five years old, that you resort to name-calling?!"_

_"__Leave me alone." Kuja was sitting on the bed with his back wedged into the corner of the wall. I don't think he really knew where he was or anything, he just knew he didn't want to be there. He was too sick and messed up to ever really bother getting his bearings. If Kuja had any lucid moments, they were rare enough that I hardly noticed them. When he wasn't lucid, he was off in his own world, fighting Garland. _

_"__If you are awake enough to talk, then you are awake enough to know that the villager you called a boar was trying to _help_. He simply wanted you to eat something!"_

_"…__Don't want help…" Kuja was staring at something over Shamila's shoulder. She sighed and turned to face me._

_"__Can I be honest?"_

_"__Uh… sure?"_

_Shamila pulled up a chair next to Kuja's bed and studied him quietly. "I __am extremely unhappy about concealing a war criminal in my village."_

_I leaned my head back against the wall. "I'd be kinda weirded out if you weren't."_

_Shamila's mouth twitched into something between a grimace and a smirk. "A few months ago, I was asked to transfer my duties from Alexandria's castle to her army. I would have traveled with the girls to tend their wounds, and to care for prisoners of war. Up until that point, I'd been caring for Queen Brahne's… declining mental health. Seeing what the war did to her… I __wanted no_ part_in it." Shamila gestured vaguely towards Kuja. "He was the queen's chief advisor at the time, yet he had little in the way of compassion. How can a man give advice without empathy?"_

_I chewed my lip. "…Not well…"_

_"__So I'm wondering…" Shamila sighed. "If there __is anything you have glimpsed in Kuja's mind this past week that proves his life is worth saving."_

_I raised an eyebrow. "You're a White Mage. I thought you guys believed in all those stupid 'every life has value' clichés."_

_"__I wonder…" Shamila looked thoughtful. "When a man has taken as many lives as Kuja has, he becomes a danger to keep alive. At what point does a life stop having value?"_

_"__I don't know," I admitted uncomfortably. "Me and Kuja and Mikoto – " I nodded towards the door where Mikoto had slipped away for a power nap. " – are basically the same person, so it's hard for me to have an opinion on the matter..."_

_Shamila looked skeptical. "The three of you are siblings, obviously, but I fail to see how you are the same. One of you is a girl, after all."_

_I snorted. "Obviously. But the three of us were created by this crazy old man who's trying to resurrect some lost civilization. We're not even the only ones - there's a whole town full of identical little blondies. But the three of us, we were special. We were supposed to be Garland's Angels of Death and make war on Gaia so he could collect the souls of the dead."_

_Shamila looked disgusted. "Then why did you turn out so different from Kuja?"_

_"__He dumped me here on Gaia when I was a kid, so I was raised by someone else. Kuja, well… he just carried on like he was supposed to. It was kill Gaia or be killed."_

_"__A decent man would have let himself be killed."_

_"__It wasn't that simple." I rubbed my forehead tiredly. "Kuja loved the planet he was supposed to destroy…"_

_"__Hmm." Shamila sat back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "I did not get that impression when I knew him. There were some people he was kind to, and he was always ridiculously polite, yet Kuja possessed a streak of cruelty that terrified me. It terrified me because he was still capable of kindness when he was not cruel, and this was not a part of humanity I could understand."_

_I sighed in exhaustion. "Kuja was created to be a chaos monster, and for better or worse, he has to live with that. He loved Gaia, but at the same time, Gaia was constantly hurting him. On Terra, he never had friends or guardians – not true ones, anyways. He had no one to talk to until he came to Gaia. But then his Gaian friends were constantly being killed or betraying him. On Terra, he was told not to have feelings, and the way his emotions always got him on trouble on Gaia seemed to prove our bastard creator right. This whole thing – this war – " I waved my hand vaguely through the air. "It was just Kuja doing what he thought he had to do to stay afloat. In the end, he rebelled against Garland – he wasn't gonna go through with his crazy plan anyways. Kuja was probably gonna try to rule us like a total asshole, but at least he would've spared all of us from, y'know, totally dying. But then Kuja… he suffered the worst betrayal of all…"_

_"__Queen Brahne?"_

_"__Hardly." I shook my head. "He expected that one. No, it was Garland, our master. Turned out the old bastard had been betraying Kuja since day one."_

_"__How so?"_

_"__He created Kuja to die once he was old enough not to be useful."_

_Shamila chewed on my words for a moment. "You say that as if Kuja is a product, rather than a person."_

_"__That's how Garland sees him."_

_"__Kuja was running the Black Mage factory in Dali."_

Walked right into that one, Zidane. _"…Yeah. Guess Kuja learned his lesson the hard way."_

_"__Perhaps. But many people have abusive childhoods, and many of us die young. Some people are given a terminal prognosis before they have even reached adulthood. Yet, in the end, we all have a choice when it comes to how we live our lives. If Kuja had not been so selfish, he would not have allowed the war. To wish death upon all, simply because he could not live… It's unthinkable…"_

_I shook my head. "I've seen a lotta insanity this past week. For every kind thing I've seen Kuja do, I've seen him do something equally disgusting. I've seen him avenge a dead child only a few years after he tried to kill one. I've seen him destroy an entire city, yet spare the life of a woman he hated. He saved an entire staff of people from their abusive boss, but only after torturing the guy to death. I could tell you how Kuja mourned the death of a woman who betrayed him, and I could tell you how he took in an abandoned dragon. I could even tell you how Kuja spent the last decade of his life knowing that his master could literally rip his soul out. But, like, does it really matter?" I raised my hands in frustration. "What difference does it make? At the end of the day, Kuja started a war and had tens of thousands of people killed. If my friends and I hadn't stopped him, the whole universe would've been obliterated. You can't argue that."_

_Shamila furrowed her brows. "If you're trying to convince me that your brother's life is worth saving, then you're not doing a very good job of it…"_

_I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair and stared up at the ceiling. "Somehow, I'm supposed to sift through the brain of my demented brother and find a way to convince him that he didn't totally screw up and that everything isn't totally hopeless. But the truth is…" I glanced over at Kuja, who had buried his face in his hands._

_"__If Kuja's ever done anything _truly selfless_, just 'cause it was the right thing to do, well… I haven't found it yet…"_

_Kuja gripped his hair and whispered something into his knees. His shoulders were shaking. Shamila gazed at him with an unexpectedly solemn expression. Her eyes were distant and sad, as though she was remembering something from long, long ago._

_"__You will…" she said softly._

;

**A/N: Hey y'all! Hope you enjoyed! Again, sorry for the slight delay. I will try very hard to have the next chapter up quickly. It's already almost completely written. See you all for the next chapter! Comments and criticism welcome :-)**


	7. The Ticking Clock

**A/N: Once again, I find myself apologizing for a delayed update. While it was partially due to my horrendous schedule, it was also because I wrote a much longer chapter before deciding it had gotten out of hand. So this fic will now be a whole chapter longer, since a large chunk of chapter 7 will now be pushed into chapter 8. Sorry 'bout that! Sometimes the story runs away from me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Final Fantasy series, etc. etc. etc.**

**CHAPTER 7: THE TICKING CLOCK**

The years passed by in a blur of dull insignificance. Sometimes, Kuja felt as if his entire life had been a dream, and he was only just now waking up. He could hardly remember a time before Gaia. He attempted to return to Terra only once, but found the Shimmering Island sealed by a strange magic. Garland would not allow him to return until his task was complete, it seemed. Kuja certainly did not weep over it. It only made it easier to forget he had ever been Garland's lapdog. Zidane was gone… Brennen was gone… the Summoners were gone… Even the scars Kuja had born from Madain Sari had faded. Kuja could no longer remember what Jane's voice sounded like, nor could he recall the blue light that had eroded his mind. His new life was consumed by the auction house, hosting extravagant parties, and hiding away in his Desert Palace across the sea. He could never _truly_ forget his purpose on Gaia – it was almost autonomic, like breathing - so Kuja continued his research. This he did in secret, across the ocean and far from the prying eyes of Treno.

Kuja used his own blood at first, mixing it with various combinations of Mist and magic. There was a part of him – a part he tried vehemently to deny – that wanted to figure out how Garland had made him. It was not that Kuja cared to know the circumstances of his own birth, it simply peeved him to know Garland had achieved something so far beyond his own understanding. When the Gaians spoke of religion, there was one constant in every faith: gods create men, and men serve the gods. When Kuja dwelled on this, he realized that Garland would be like a god to these people – and Kuja would be _damned_ if that old fool would ever be considered such.

With feverish intent, Kuja injected nightmarish cocktails into dead tissues, searching for sparks of life in animal corpses. Kuja could still recall, on sleepless nights, the griffin hatchling. Nirmali had developed a fierce mothering instinct that could not be satiated without a male Silver Dragon. To fulfill her cravings, she had taken to plucking eggs from the nests of monsters. Kuja made no effort to stop her – she seemed happy to nurture the eggs, and when they hatched, Kuja made sure they were well cared for. When the hatchlings were old enough, Kuja would bring them to Treno, where rich noblemen were eager to spoil exotic pets with lavish homes and expensive food.

But Kuja had learned that life takes as much as she gives, and he felt a deep pang of regret when he found Nirmali curled up in the palace stables, whining mournfully. Kuja kneeled down to find a griffin hatchling, cold and still. The chick was not injured or deformed, so it must have had an internal defect. Nirmali wailed softly in the back of her throat as she nudged at the motionless creature. As gently as possible, Kuja lifted the little griffin into his arms and brought it back to his lab. One of his formulas had shown promising results in reviving necrotic cells. Since the hatchling did not yet show signs of rigor mortis, Kuja was hopeful as he injected the concoction into the griffin's veins. Hope turned to dread, however, when the chick's back legs began to twitch. It was the first time the experiment had succeeded, and Kuja stumbled back from the table in shock. The griffin shuddered and opened its eyes, which were glazed with ill health and confusion. Kuja pressed a shaking hand to his mouth as he finally realized the truth of his own creation. He, too, had once been a doll on a lab table – a mockery of life sewn together with spare parts and forced alive with poison. The griffin's wings flapped feebly against the table. Its eyes locked on Kuja. Trying not to be sick, Kuja staggered out of the lab and fell to his knees. It took him several minutes to compose himself enough to take responsibility for what he'd done. By the time he returned to the lab, however, the griffin was blessedly dead.

Kuja realized a dark truth that day: to overcome Garland, he would have to give up his emotions. Kuja's heart had grown too soft for progress. There could be no room for guilt, and he certainly could not project himself onto his research. And so, with the cold practicality of a surgeon, Kuja hacked the griffin's corpse into pieces and put its organs in glass jars. Torn apart, it was easy to forget it had ever been a living creature. A few weeks later, Kuja's research forced the griffin's tiny heart to beat inside the jar. Kuja was excited at first, but excitement returned to dread when he found the organ still beating hours later. The heart ineffectually pumped formaldehyde like some twisted joke –

Shivering, Kuja broke the glass, cast Stop on the heart, and buried it in the desert.

_Weak…_ Kuja tilted his head back as he stood alone in the rolling sands. _Garland was right about you…_

Kuja knew it was true – he had been corrupted by the humanity of the Gaians. If he allowed himself to _feel_ all the time, then it left room in his heart for doubt… for guilt… for sorrow. Kuja closed his eyes at the memory of dark hair floating in seaweed. The only way to succeed was to rise above _empathy_ and _sentiment_.

From that day forward, Kuja created and killed, created and killed, like a death machine. Nothing he created was meant to live anyhow, so why did it matter ? From Mist and magic, Kuja birthed an array of monsters. At first, they died within hours, but as Kuja's formulas began to stabilize, the monsters became self-sustaining. Kuja was confident enough to free them into the desert. Others, he left to roam the palace. It added a little life to the otherwise empty hallways.

The stroke of genius came to him while observing a fighting match in Treno. Two men – poor, desperate beggars – attacked each other with wooden swords while the rich shouted and argued. When one of the beggars knocked the other to the floor, two noblemen began to squabble. One punched the other, sending a cloud of powder into the air. A moment later, every man in the gambling house was declaring war.

_War..._

Kuja laughed when the realization struck him. Garland had always lacked any _true_ foresight. A few "Angels of Death" were well and good, but if Kuja could create an entire _army_ of soldiers…

One by one, the wheels began to turn. An arms race between the nations. Fear would turn to paranoia, and paranoia would require armies. Every nation would have to choose a side or be slaughtered. Either outcome benefited Kuja's plans. And then the grand finale! At the stroke of midnight, Alexandria's Eidolons would emerge…!

Kuja couldn't stop laughing as the gears of war began to turn.

Unfortunately, creating soldiers would require far more complex science than creating monsters… It would require high-functioning brains that could follow orders…

After months of intense labor, Kuja created his first false Gaian. She was just a child – a little girl with dark skin and beautiful, golden eyes. Kuja felt immense pride. Though she was just a test creature to be discarded, the little girl breathed on her own, and could track his finger. Even better, she responded to pain and instinctually flinched when a flame touched her.

Satisfied with the results and ready to move on, Kuja prepared a Thundaga. Several minutes later, however, he was still standing there.

"…_You would discard me?"_

Kuja would not ask himself why he did it – the answer would ruin everything he'd worked for. Kuja assured himself it was in the name of _research_ that he gifted the child with a soul.

When the little girl blinked up at Kuja, he felt unexpectedly awkward. She was like a newborn baby who did not even possess words. With Kuja's blood running through her veins, however, he was sure the child would come to possess great power. As Gaia fell, Kuja would train her to become a deadly angel. Perhaps they could overpower Garland together.

Kuja decided to name the little girl Asha, from the ancient Terran word for "hope."

;

"_Mikoto… do you… I mean, like, since this whole thing went down… have you had any thoughts about… all this…?"_

_Mikoto turned away from the window, which was almost completely encrusted with snow. For the first time since I'd woken up, I was able to wander outside my room for more than ten minutes without falling on my face. My leg was still heavily bandaged, and pain shot through my thigh anytime I shifted my weight, but I relished my freedom in Mikoto's small guest room. I joined her at the window and watched the snow. The wind was rattling the glass. I exhaled on the window and drew a smiley face._

"_You are referring to my feelings on the matter?"_

_I blinked, having forgotten I'd asked a question. "Oh, uh… I dunno… Kuja's so resentful about everything, so I'm just wondering how _you_ feel about it…"_

"_I do not fully understand my emotions," Mikoto admitted. "And I do not know what I am expected to feel."_

"_You're not expected to feel _anything_. You just feel what you feel, y'know? Kuja's always dwelling on the past, but me? I take things as they come. So… what about you?" It stung a little that this girl was the closest thing I had to a sister, and I had absolutely no idea what she might be feeling._

"_I don't know…" Mikoto frowned._

"_That's alright." I elbowed her lightly. "You'll figure it out someday… Kuja doesn't know how he feels either, he just pretends."_

"…_The Black Mages feel resentment…"_

_I looked up at Mikoto in surprise. As far as I knew, the Black Mages were nothing but sunshine and puppies. I didn't think they had an ounce of hatred in their bodies. Seeing the look on my face, Mikoto added, " – but they do not hold it against Kuja. To hate his actions would only create a vicious cycle. They are trying to understand him."_

"_That's… pretty wise… considering the Black Mages have only been alive for a few months."_

"_The Black Mages do not dwell on the past. They only live in the moment. They have chosen not to question their creation."_

"_It was revenge."_

_I whipped around to find Kuja standing in the doorway, clutching the wall. His eyes peered at us from dark, bruised sockets. If Kuja looked crazy during the war, he looked _completely_ unhinged now. Nonetheless, there was a lucidity in those eyes that made me dare to hope..._

_Mikoto pushed away from the window. "Kuja – "_

"_It was revenge…" He repeated. "That's why I sent the Black Mages to war… That's why I didn't care if they died…"_

_There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Revenge against _who_, Kuja?"_

"_The _Genomes_," he hissed._

_Mikoto moved forward when Kuja began swaying dangerously. "You should not – "_

"_Do you know what it's _like?!_" Kuja snarled so suddenly that Mikoto took a step back. "To rise from puppet to puppet master? To crawl from a lab table and pick up a scalpel?! Do you know what it's like to realize… to realize after all these years… the… the _mistake_… To know…" Kuja's eyes were glassy again. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I held up my hands . The distant look in Kuja's eyes suddenly flashed with hatred._

"_I know what you're trying to do, Zidane, but you will fail! You are searching for light in a bottomless pit. You will fall forever in the pursuit of something that does not exist. You are trying to prove that somehow, I do not know myself half as well as you do." Kuja sneered. "You think you can taint the hatred in my soul?! You think you can warp it into something you can tolerate__?! You are _wrong_, Zidane!" Kuja staggered forward. "Heroes fight for others, and villains fight for themselves! You are wrong if you think I have ever done _anything_ if not for revenge! Revenge has kept me alive all these years, and it is revenge that will end Garland! If you will not take my hatred in this battle – if you will not allow me this redemption – then I am going _alone!_"_

_Kuja fell to his knees. I started towards him, but he snarled._

"_Why don't you ever _listen_ to me?!" Kuja punched a fist into the floor. "I _hate_ you, Zidane! I hate you because I _cannot_ hate you! This hatred…" Kuja bowed his head. "It's all I have left. I cannot fight without it, yet I am still _losing_. Don't you understand, Zidane?" Kuja looked up at me in desperation. "I am the villain. I am selfish. I would do _anything_ to stop Garland, even if it meant my death, or the deaths of others. _You_ are the hero! You fight for the ones I would kill without a second thought! If I die to give you my power, then you will defeat Garland and put a stop to any further bloodshed!"_

_I swallowed hard. "I… I don't want your hatred, Kuja… Don't you see what your powers would do to me? You're mad that I've been trying to change you, but you're asking me to be tainted, too. I don't _hate_, Kuja, and I don't let people kill themselves when I _know_ there's another way. You don't have to die to be a hero, and I'm not gonna make myself feel like a villain to save the world!"_

_Kuja's face fell. We stared at each other for a long time, trying to make the other understand something without words. Then Kuja grit his teeth together. He wasn't gonna give up._

"_Zidane, you cannot walk through the other realms as Mikoto and I can. You cannot do _anything_ without – "_

"_We'll find a way."_

_I expected Kuja to protest, but he simply hung his head in defeat. "Mikoto…"_

"_I know," she said softly._

"_We're running out of time. You have to let me – "_

"_No." Mikoto's eyes flashed with anger. "If we move too soon, Garland will destroy us."_

_Kuja doubled over and clutched at his hair. One of Shamila's assistants heard the commotion and stormed into the room._

"_Damnit, kid, what did I say?!" The man hauled Kuja onto his feet despite his weak protests. I felt utterly helpless as I watched Kuja get dragged from the room. Shamila was convinced I was going to find proof of something stronger than hatred in Kuja's soul, but now I knew the truth._

"It was revenge…"

_There was nothing else in Kuja's heart. Any empathy he'd been capable of was crushed into a darkness he could never recover from. Kuja's soul was nothing but venom, and if he managed to force that power on me, it would turn to sorrow in my hands. Kuja would perish as the villain after all. That wasn't redemption – that was just using death to run away.__…_

;

The stars glittered, but Terra was a large, burning wound in the sky. Kuja rested his hand on Nirmali's head. She was snoozing next to the bench in the night garden.

"Only two years left…" Kuja shook his head. "To think, Garland, that it was my _weakness_ that gave us this blessing. Imagine if I had killed Princess Garnet that day on the pier. Such a glorious war would not loom so large on the horizon."

Nirmali grunted as something landed on her nose. Kuja watched in amazement as a silver-winged moth fluttered away from Nirmali's snapping beak. When Kuja reached out, the moth landed in the palm of his hand. Its wings were _glowing_.

"A Starlight Butterfly," Kuja murmured. "Asha!" he called out. "Come here, child!"

Asha emerged from the flowers and scampered over. Kuja held out his hand to show her the insect.

"A Starlight Butterfly. They are _incredibly_ rare."

Asha's eyes lit up at the sight of the shimmering moth. "Is it good luck?"

Kuja hesitated. "Not exactly. The Burmecians say the moth appears when a star falls from the sky."

Asha gave Kuja a baffled. "Stars can fall from the sky? But you said they are the size of suns!"

"It's merely a story, child."

"Maybe we should set it free." Asha suddenly looked nervous.

Kuja smiled. "Good girl. Winged creatures should _never_ be held captive. That is why I let Nirmali roam free."

Kuja held his hand towards the star-peppered sky. The moth took off in a flurry of silver. Nirmali raised her long neck and watched it disappear with a snort. The moth left Kuja feeling strangely uneasy.

"According to Burmecian superstition, a star only falls when someone important dies." Kuja shifted over as Asha climbed onto the bench beside him "A priest, or a war hero, perhaps. The Starlight Butterfly is the soul of the dead, fallen to Gaia."

Asha leaned sideways against Nirmali. "Do you think it's true?"

"No, of course not."

A moment later, the bells began to toll.

"Lord King?"

Kuja sighed and closed his eyes. "Who has died?"

"The king of Alexandria," said Leumis from the doorway. "It was the sickness from Burmecia. The queen fell ill as well, but made a full recovery. The king passed away this morning…"

"I see."

Asha tugged on Kuja's sleeve. "What does it mean…?"

"A funeral, I suppose. We will have to attend, as I was briefly acquainted with the king. He was a kind man, and his people loved him. Alexandria will mourn this death deeply. Leumis, has the royal family made arrangements? With the sickness..."

"The disease runs rampant in Burmecia, but is fully quarantined in Alexandria. There has not been a single case since the city went into lockdown, so the gates were reopened this morning. The funeral will be held the day after tomorrow."

"I see. Well, then I suppose I should start preparing."

"What of the Lady Asha?"

"She will join me." Kuja rose to his feet. "It is time she learn how to mingle with royals."

"Yes, sir." Leumis held out his hand to Asha. "Come, little lady."

It was rare to see Leumis smile, but Kuja caught the small grin on the auctioneer's face as he led Asha back into the manor. With no wife, and no family in Treno, Leumis loved Asha as his own. Though Kuja shamelessly spoiled the child – she always wore the finest dresses and had golden barrettes in her hair – he simply didn't have the time or temperament to watch over her every waking moment.

Not a single question was asked when Kuja returned from the Forgotten Continent with a toddler in tow. The people of Treno assumed – in whispers, of course – that Kuja had a lady companion abroad who had born him a child. Kuja didn't care what Treno thought. No one would ever _dare_ question Lord King.

The following morning, Kuja found himself standing on the deck of an airship drifting towards Alexandria. To pass the time, Kuja spoke with the Lady Renald. She was the fiancé of an earl who was stranded in Alexandria during lockdown. Now, with the gates open and a funeral to attend, the Lady Renald hurried to join her fiancé in the city. She was Alexandrian-born herself, so Kuja pressed her for knowledge.

"So there are no burials _ever?_"

"Rarely." Lady Renald shrugged beneath her black shawl. "It is customary to perform public cremation. For the royal family, however, it will be a private ceremony. The rest of us will be expected to offer condolences and to leave a gift."

"Naturally."

"There is also a superstition – " The Lady Renald's voice took on a whimsical tone as she leaned over the railing and gazed out at the mountains below. " – that spirits live inside mirrors, and in the eyes of statues and paintings. Until cremation is over, reflective objects and false eyes must be covered. Otherwise, the spirit will see their family grieving and refuse to pass."

"That is certainly a... unique idea." Kuja tried not to make a face at the utterly ridiculous superstition.

"Do they have such beliefs where you come from, Lord King?"

Kuja hesitated. The Lady Renald would probably not believe him regardless. "We believe in a crystal." It was not a _belief_, however; it was a _fact_ – one which Kuja had studied in depth. "Each planet has a crystal at its spiritual core, and each crystal creates life on its planet."

Lady Renald laughed loudly. "Well, that is certainly unique as well. Then where, pray tell, do the crystal comes from?"

"From a crystal greater than them all: the source of all existence."

"How…" The Lady clearly could not find an unoffensive word. "…interesting."

_It is the _truth_, you ignorant fool._

The world rolled steadily beneath the airship. "Asha, come here a moment."

Asha turned away from the bridge where she'd been watching the captain steer . As she scurried over, Kuja lifted her into his arms so she could see the land below.

"Do you see the Mist?" He pointed with his free hand. Asha nodded. "We do not see it in Treno because of the city walls. However, that Mist covers the _entire_ continent."

"How can Alexandrians _see_ through that?!" Asha wrinkled her nose. The Lady Renald laughed.

"The Mist is not so thick on the ground, child, and Alexandria is built high above the worst of the fog."

"And that out there – " Kuja pointed towards the sun rising on the horizon. "Is the crystal of Alexander. They say it possesses a great guardian spirit."

"It's shiny." Asha's eyes were wide as the crystal shot beams of light across the continent.

"Lord King, she is _adorable_." Lady Renald cooed. "How long has she been living in Treno?"

"About a year-and-a-half. She still has much to learn of the Mist Continent, I'm afraid, but I am trying to teach her."

"She is lucky to have such a wonderful teacher."

Kuja smiled politely, but internally rolled his eyes_. Suck up._

It was surreal to see the normally colorful nation of Alexandria in a state of near-silence. The citizens moved about in slow motion. Many shop windows had been covered in fabric, and a blanket of sorrow was draped over the city.

As a nobleman attending the funeral, Kuja was given a guest suite in the castle. The Lady Renald had not lied – all the paintings and mirrors were concealed behind black cloth. The castle halls seemed haunted and claustrophobic.

Gifts were collected in the throne room. Kuja remembered Queen Brahne's love of the theater, so he gifted her with an antique copy of "I Want to be Your Canary," bound in gold, with garnets encrusted in the spine. The book was worth an absolute fortune, but it was not often Kuja had to console a widowed queen.

The royal family was unable to greet guests that night, unfortunately. The queen was too emotional, they were informed. Kuja hardly minded. He wasn't in the mood to put on appearances anyways. With the night free, he gave Asha a tour of the city. Her entire life was divided between Treno and the Desert Palace, so she had become a creature of the night, She spent all her time either in the Dark City, or buried beneath the sand of the Forgotten Continent. Clearly energized by the night, Asha scampered excitedly about the city. Kuja let her run wherever she liked, so long as he could keep an eye on her. He could still remember a time when Gaia had been strange and new to him, too. He remembered that day in Madain Sari, when he'd felt rain on his skin for the first time. Even now, almost seven years later, he had an intense love for Treno's summer storms.

Asha stumbled upon the statue of a soldier, which was draped in fabric to hide its eyes. Asha leaned against the pedestal to peek under the cloth.

"Why do they make people out of stone?" she asked Kuja.

"Usually to honor someone important," he said, gazing up at the obscured statue.

"Has anyone made a statue of you?"

Kuja laughed in surprise. "I am hardly important enough to warrant the expense of a statue."

"_I _think you're important."

Kuja smirked. "Well, of course. I feed you."

Asha eyes seemed to twinkle in the darkness. "Someday, when I work in the auction house like Leumis, I'll make a statue of you."

"Silly child." Kuja chuckled. Nearby, a solemn shop keeper flipped the sign on her door from "OPEN" to "CLOSED." Kuja hadn't realized how late it was. "Shall we head back?" he asked Asha. She nodded and grabbed his hand. It sent a spark through his body. Even after so many years, Kuja flinched at being touched. He felt oddly distracted as Asha tugged him back through the city. Her little legs were tired, however, so Kuja scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way.

Kuja asked a passing servant to bring food to their guest quarters. Once it arrived, Asha became far more interested in playing with the food than eating it.

"This one tastes like dirt." Asha used her fork to tip over her meatloaf. Kuja casually put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand.

"And how, pray tell, do you know what dirt tastes like?"

Asha lowered her head guiltily. "Well, it looks just like the powder Leumis uses to make chocolate milk…"

Kuja shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, Asha, for goodness' sake. From now on, you do not put anything in your mouth unless you _know_ it is food. There are terrible things hiding in the dirt."

"I know." Asha kicked her legs under the table. "I had to spit out a bug."

Kuja couldn't help but laugh, despite the unfamiliar emotion. "Asha…!"

"You're not mad?" The little girl looked up at him with big, round eyes.

"Well, I'm a little… disappointed in your judgment," Kuja admitted, though he smiled.

A huge grin spread across Asha's face. She looked so _happy..._ Kuja wondered if happiness was the reason Gaians clung so desperately to their emotions, despite how feelings hindered them. For all the sadness they felt, they experienced an equal amount of joy.

_Joy._ Kuja felt a pang of regret at the word. "_Should the day come that we meet again, I hope you'll have found a reason to smile…"_

Kuja shook his head. He never let his thoughts wander down that road…

That night, without explanation, Asha crawled out of her bed and climbed into Kuja's. She curled up against his side as Nirmali often did. Kuja was startled awake by Asha's sudden appearance. When he noticed the child beside him, he suddenly remembered the way Jane and Sarah embraced in the boat. Kuja shook the thought away and tried to asleep, but the boat continued swaying behind his eyelids. Jane lay on her back in the boat with her hands clasped over her chest. Asha sobbed as Kuja shoved the casket away from the shore. Asha splashed out into the water, desperately fighting against the current.

"_Mother!"_ she screamed. _"No!"_

Kuja squeezed his eyes shut and willed the dreams to leave him. Doubts. Fears. Voices warring until he could no longer hear his thoughts.

"Kuja?"

"Hm?" He opened his eyes and found Asha gazing up at him in the darkness. "Are you alright…?"

Kuja hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "There is nothing wrong, child, go back to sleep…"

;

_I woke up suddenly, feeling shaken. There was a cold sweat on my forehead._

"_Mikoto…?"_

_She didn't respond. She must've been "out there" again. She was spending more and more time in her mind the past few days, fighting a battle I was too stupid to understand. Even with Mikoto in the room, I was alone and useless…_

_I glanced over at Kuja, who was standing at the window, clutching the windowsill. He'd been watching the snow four hours, or at least je acted like he was. Most likely he was off in the other world too._

_Shamila was standing in the doorway asking me something, but I couldn't make out the words through the buzzing in my head. I slowly turned my head to face her. She raised an eyebrow._

"_You used to worked in Alexandria Castle, right?" I asked._

_Shamila frowned. "…Yes?"_

"_And you met Kuja back then?"_

"_On occasion."_

"…_Did you ever see a little girl named Asha?"_

_Shamila's expression was unreadable. "Yes, I remember Asha."_

"_Wow…" I shook my head in disbelief. "It's like watching a behemoth play with a baby." I gave Shamila an annoyed look. "Why am I only _now_ hearing about Asha? No one's _ever_ mentioned her before."_

_Shamila tapped her fingers against the doorframe. "I suppose you would have to ask Kuja."_

"…_Do _you_ know why?"_

_Shamila gave me a look that was simultaneously thoughtful and accusing. "Why do you question your brother's silence?"_

_I watched a spider scuttling across the ceiling. "Because he loves talking more than anybody."_

"_Sometimes, those who speak say nothing, and silence is worth more than words."_

_Shamila was gazing at Kuja, who had turned away from the window. Their eyes locked. Then Kuja burst out laughing. Mikoto twitched and looked around in confusion._

"_Oh, this is _hilarious_." Kuja continued cackling at the sight of Shamila."I'm impressed, woman! You have not yet killed me!"_

"_She's been thinkin' about it," I grumbled. Shamila did not look amused. Kuja shook his head._

"_I understand now. It's all a _joke!_ The meaning of life is to get to the inevitable _punch line!_" Kuja suddenly rounded on Shamila. She said nothing as he bared his teeth._

"_Why stay your hand, Mage?"_

_Shamila didn't allow Kuja to rile her. She simply glared at him, daring him to make a move. Kuja sneered. "I know why you will not kill me, witch. You think you can hide behind that face?!" __Kuja laughed again. "Time moves forward, but the clock hands always follow the same circle!" Kuja suddenly sagged to the floor and leaned back against the wall. "Over and over! Never ceasing!" __I glanced at Mikoto, but she clearly had no idea what Kuja was talking about either._

_Shamila simply left the room._

;

The following evening, the royal family was at last able to appear in the throne room. While many were discomfited by the king's empty seat, Kuja was far more disturbed by the sight of Princess Garnet. Nearly five years had passed, and now she was a woman. Even in her somber, black gown, she was like a ghost returned from the grave. Garnet's eyes were dark and sad, but she was trying not to cry in front of others. She was just like her mother – her _true_ mother.

Speaking of which… Kuja couldn't help but notice that the queen had grown… a bit _larger_ since he'd last seen her. Worse yet, the plague had drained her skin until it was a sallow, sickly blue. When Kuja approached the throne – under the watchful eye of General Beatrix – the queen's gaze was unexpectedly cold and hard.

"Your Majesty." Kuja swept into a bow. He gave Asha a pointed look, and she quickly curtsied beside him. "We are so sorry for your loss…"

"You and half the continent." Brahne gestured towards Kuja with a jewel-encrusted goblet, which sloshed red wine onto her dress. Kuja winced.

"If there is anything you need in this difficult time, Your Majesty…"

Queen Brahne snorted and took a swig. "Still as polite as ever, Kuja – and just as girly. Looks like you managed to breed, at least."

Kuja's cheeks burned. In the seven years he'd ruled in Treno, none but Asha had dared to call him by his first name. Even the few women who saw the inside of his bedchamber referred to him as Lord King. Furthermore, no one had _ever_ dared imply that Asha was his ill begotten child. Trying to hide his outrage, Kuja rattled off his usual story.

"Asha is a foundling, Your Highness – from the Forgotten Continent. I am raising her in my manor."

"I can see why." Queen Brahne's eyes were dark as she gazed at Asha. "Adorable little foreigner, isn't she?"

Kuja was shocked by how much the queen had changed in the five years since he'd seen her. She'd been a rather crude woman before, yes, but always with a jovial and playful spirit. She had never been _mean_ – never _malicious_.

"I suppose you heard about the plague …" Brahne muttered into her cup.

"Yes, my queen."

"Came from Burmecia, you know – those ugly little beasts. Leave it to _vermin_ to spread a _vermin's_ disease."

"Your Majesty…" General Beatrix gave her queen a stern look. Queen Brahne narrowed her eyes.

"Do not interrupt me when I am speaking."

Beatrix pressed her lips together but bowed her head nonetheless. "Yes, my queen."

Kuja tried not to grin. Barely five years had passed, yet the king was dead, the queen was drunk, and Burmecia was to blame. Divine intervention indeed…

"Such a dreadful thing," Kuja drawled. "That the Burmecians were not more careful about whom they sent to your city."

Queen Brahne made a disgusted sound. "'It can take up to two days for symptoms to appear,' the rats tell me, so they had _no idea_ any travelers to Alexandria were infected. _Liars!_" Queen Brahne slammed her empty goblet down on the arm of her throne. "Two days, they say – _two days_ – as if this is some shield they can hide behind! As if they are not to blame for _every_ death in this city! I should have walled them out – I should have kept those filthy rodents out of my city since day one! They were always jealous of our prosperity." The queen held out her goblet for a servant to fill. "It is up to me, now. I must protect the city. I have to put my foot down and my fists up. Everyone thinks they can walk all over Alexandria – well, they have got _another thing coming_."

"We spoke of this, your majesty…" Kuja lowered his voice. "Of a great power that would come to you in two years..."

General Beatrix furrowed her brows. Queen Brahne's eyes darted towards her daughter. "Yes, and what of these two years? What of the protection we need before then?"

"Perhaps I may be of assistance."

The queen snorted. "You are but one man, Kuja – if you even _are_ a man, I wonder…"

"I think I may be of use to you nonetheless." Kuja kept the false smile on his face. "Perhaps we can speak of this at another time, when Her Majesty is not grieving."

Brahne's beady eyes narrowed. "The day you prove to me that you are more than pretty words, I may yet listen to your pretty face. We will speak more of this later."

_Pretty face… Oh, this will be fun, you _elephant_._ "Thank you, Your Majesty." Kuja bowed. When he arose, he found Beatrix staring down at him with suspicion. "General." Kuja dipped his head in greeting. Beatrix's lip twitched, but she otherwise didn't say a word.

"Come, child." Kuja held out his hand to Asha. "Let us offer our condolences to the princess."

Though Kuja was polite, the princess hardly noticed him. She did little more than thank him for his kind words before her eyes went distant with sorrow. Kuja was more than happy to leave her to her mourning.

There was a great feast that night. Every woman at the table dissolved at the sight of Asha, so Kuja took advantage of the distraction to listen in on the whispers about the queen. Everyone present was quite disturbed by the unusual change in Brahne's demeanor. The king and queen had fallen ill during a play. Once the queen recovered, she went on a rampage and had the actors thrown in jail. The king's final order before he passed away was for the troupe to be released, but Brahne had the play banned from ever being performed again in Alexandria. Queen Brahne's irrational behavior was alarming, but Kuja could already think of a thousand different ways he could exploit it. There was a political void in the castle now, and Kuja was sure he could insert himself into the government one way or another. Of course, getting past Beatrix would be tricky, but Kuja didn't doubt he could take care of the problem if he had to. She had a bloodthirsty sword, but he was sure she had never taken on a sorcerer.

"…A sickness of the mind, perhaps?" a duchess wondered.

"It's possible," a man in a ridiculous feathered hat murmured. "Perhaps the sickness left a lasting poison inside her."

"How will the Burmecians ever repay this debt…?" A nobleman shook his head sadly.

"I do not think they can," said Kuja. The others nodded grimly.

"Let us not speak of such morbid topics in front of the child," said the Lady Renald. She had her hand on her fiancé's arm as she watched Asha learn the joys of chocolate cake. Kuja decided he would have to set some ground rules about her sugar intake.

That night, Kuja let Asha stay up a few extra hours. They had originally planned to leave in the morning, but a soldier informed Kuja that the queen wished to speak with him the following day. Delighted, Kuja had his airship rescheduled and sent a Moogle to inform Leumis that he would have to watch the auction house a few more days.

"What's this word?" From her position on the floor, Asha held up the book she was reading. Kuja leaned over in his chair and peered at it.

"It's pronounced 'floral.'"

Asha wrinkled her nose. "Floral? What does it mean?"

"Anything pertaining to flowers, such as the decorations on your dress." For the first time, Kuja noticed Asha's lovely outfit. In fitting with Alexandria's funerary customs, it was black, but there were flowers of golden lace woven into the fabric.

"Where did you get that dress?"

"It was a gift from Leumis," said Asha, beaming.

Kuja frowned. "It looks expensive…"

"Expensive?"

"I should give that man a raise. He takes such good care of you when I am not around…"

"Sometimes you are never around."

Kuja felt an unexpected pang of guilt.

_Gods create men, and men serve the gods…_

Suddenly, Kuja's throat felt dry. As a "child," he had accepted his creation. He'd been given a purpose – for what other reason did one need to be alive? But the more time he spent among the Gaians, the more he came to realize that there _was_ more… The Genomes were like livestock, but Kuja was different, and it was that difference that filled him with such hate. He had created Asha just as Garland had created him, and that meant he had a responsibility to ensure she did not end up with a reason to resent him…

Shuddering, Kuja recalled how close he had come to discarding the child. Such hypocrisy... Kuja lay his hand on Asha's head.

"I will be around as much as you desire," he said softly. "I am not going anywhere…"

;

_I woke with a start and immediately knew something was wrong. Mikoto was sitting quietly in a chair by the window with her hands folded in her lap. Not a single candle was lit, and the room was unusually dark and quiet. The only light came from the twin moons reflecting off the snow._

"_Mikoto…?"_

_She turned to me slowly, and then I knew. "…Where is he?"_

"_He went to the Iifa Tree," she said,_

_I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. "How?!"_

"_He forced me from the spirit world. I do not know how long I was trapped in the darkness, but when I finally pulled free, night had fallen and Kuja was gone. I can barely sense his presence. He must have stolen some Ethers and teleported. I could not wake you for several hours, so I assume he put you under a spell as well."_

_I tried not to panic. "Why?!"_

"_He wants to defeat Garland."_

"_Why now?! What changed alluva sudden?!"_

"…_We were losing…" Mikoto admitted. "Garland was poisoning my mind and spirit. I was completely overwhelmed. If Kuja had not thrown me from the realm, Garland may have…" Mikoto looked troubled – a look that didn't seem right on her face. "Kuja__ told me he would not wait any longer, and then he was gone. I am not strong enough to chase him through the spirit world, and we cannot travel in this snow. The temperature has dropped so low that birds are falling dead from the sky."_

"But_ Kuja's out there!"_

_Mikoto nodded gravely. "Yes..."_

;

The queen was _truly_ disgusting. She shoveled food in her mouth like an animal. Across the dining table, Kuja tried not to grimace. Beatrix was not faring much better. Her eye twitched every time Brahne spilled something onto the table.

The queen laughed, spraying food from her mouth. "You must think me a _fool_, Kuja, if you believe my council needs another brainless, nepotic pretty boy!"

Kuja smiled. "Did you know, my queen, that I was not born into money?"

"Oho." Brahne threw back her wine. "Then how many men did you service?"

Kuja's eyes narrowed. _I will kill you one day, you elephant – mark my words._ "Actually, I was a soldier."

_That_ got General Beatrix's attention. "I imagine that did not last long." Queen Brahne chuckled.

"Actually, I am quite skilled at what I do," said Kuja. I was born and bred for war. Since birth, I have studied. Sometimes, I did not eat, I was so immersed in my training. There is no aspect of weaponry or war that I am not fully versed in."

Beatrix looked amused. "Then why, pray tell, is a tactical prodigy spending his days idling in Treno? I imagine you do not see many wars in your mansion."

Kuja smirked. "I am afraid _that_ is a personal matter."

"In my castle, I'm afraid it is _not_." Brahne gave Kuja a heated look. "And there is little you can offer me that General Beatrix does not already provide. You will not worm your way into my politics so easily. You are not even of the Mist Continent, _Lord King _– how do I know you are not a spy?"

"You don't." Kuja shrugged. "But there is one thing I can provide that General Beatrix cannot." Kuja held out his hand. A dark orb floated above his palm. Queen Brahne was not impressed.

"You think some petty parlor tricks make you more powerful than my army?"

_Yes._ "No." Kuja extinguished the orb in his hand. "But an army of Mages even one-third the size of your army could wipe them all out in a matter of hours."

Beatrix's cheeks flushed red with anger. "You must think quite highly of yourself, Lord King!"

"If you wish to test me, I am more than willing."

Beatrix gave a single "ha" of laughter. "You have a death wish!

_Your have _no_ idea. _"Are you afraid to fight a sorcerer, General?"

"Hmph." Beatrix lifted her chin. "I accept your challenge."

Queen Brahne cackled and threw back the rest of her wine. "I may as well dismiss Zorn and Thorn!" she cried. "I've already got two fools!"

;

"_I'm going, one way or another."_

"_You can't!" Mikoto looked panicked – or as panicked as she could possibly look at that point in her life. It was more of a concerned expression than anything, but I could see the fear in her eyes._

"_No, this has gone on long enough!" I shouted. "One way or another, I'm stopping Garland!"_

"_You do not have the magical prowess to traverse other realms!"_

"_Thanks, _thesaurus_, but I made it through Memoria just fine!"_

"_Yes, because Garland assisted you!"_

"_Then why don't _you_ assist me?"_

_Mikoto seemed to physically withdraw. "I… I am not sure how."_

"_Yes, you are. If anyone knows how to do this, it's you."_

"_Zidane, you do not understand – this is outside your experience! Time flows differently in the other realms! A few seconds in the spirit world might cost you hours – _days_ – of your life here!"_

"_Is _that_ why you guys keep coming back so often?" I could never figure out why Kuja and Mikoto withdrew from battle every few hours. I thought it was the whole, "damage to the body" thing, but now that I knew the truth, it was a little creepy. If only seconds were passing in the other realm, yet Garland was pushing the Assimilation in ours… No wonder Kuja and Mikoto were getting desperate. We had days, here, but barely _minutes_ in the other realm._

"_This explains a _lot_," I grumbled. "I feel like lifetimes pass while I'm sleeping."_

"_They do."_

"_Why didn't you explain this sooner?" _

"_I…" Mikoto stared at her lap. "I did not want you to worry."_

_Don't you just love a fresh heap of guilt with your apocalypse? I sighed and ruffled Mikoto's hair. She blinked at me in confusion._

"_Mikoto… when all this is over, I wanna get to know you. The _real_ you. We can't die now that I've finally got a sister!" Ruby doen't count. She acts more like a man than I do._

_Mikoto clearly didn't know how to respond. I gave her a roguish grin._

"_C'mon, sis, send me in."_

"_Zidane – "_

"_It's just a practice run! I know you think I can't do this stuff like you and Kuja, but I've never even tried! What's the worst that could happen?"_

"_Your soul will be irrevocably torn from your body."_

"_Bah. I've taken bigger risks."_

_Mikoto looked uncomfortable. "You were not constructed for this kind of travel as I was… I cannot predict the results. Kuja studied these magics intensely, and if he believes – "_

_I held up a hand. "Mikoto, if there's one thing I've learned these past few weeks, it's that Kuja only believes whatever the hell he _wants_ to believe. That doesn't make it true."_"

"_Zidane…"_

"_Please, Mikoto – at least for a moment. Just let me see what's happening!"_

_Mikoto hesitated, then grabbed my hand. "I will spiritually tether you to Gaia, but promise me you will not resist if I pull you out."_

_I squeezed her hand. "I promise."_

_And then everything dissolved._

;

If the women turned their noses up any higher, Kuja was sure they would collapse. General Beatrix hadn't lowered her eyebrow in several hours.

_Keep smirking,_ he thought in amusement. _It will be your last smile for awhile._

The unexpectedly warm weather baked the sand of Beatrix's training field. Kuja had requested that they not allow spectators. The arrogant soldiers assumed he was afraid to look foolish, but the truth was that Kuja wanted to limit how many people saw him use magic. No one could know his true power. Better to win favor as an ambitious young sorcerer than to give the soldiers a reason to fear him. Fear led to mistrust, and Kuja needed the queen's trust more than anything. Besides, if Alexandria was not aware of his true power, they could not prepare for his inevitable attack.

Despite Kuja's polite request, however, the handful of royal guards standing on the sidelines blossomed into at least sixty smirking officers. Queen Brahne stood on the edge of the field, fanning the sweat off her face. By her side, the Lady Renald stood with Asha. Lady Renald had expressed concern over Asha witnessing violence, but Kuja insisted she be present. Asha needed to be exposed to as much magic as possible. Squinting beneath a parasol, the Lady Renald looked wary, but Asha nearly quivered with excitement.

"You should know, my lord, that I have never lost a fight." Beatrix swaggered into the field.

"Nor have I," said Kuja. The lady soldiers gave each other amused looks. Beatrix smirked.

"Pardon my skepticism."

"You've been pardoned."

"Get on with it!" Queen Brahne shouted. Kuja swept into a gracious bow.

"Ladies first."

Beatrix's lip twitched. "I am not sure which of us you are referring to."

"You speak of femininity as an insult. Is your army not _entirely_ comprised of women?"

"Enough!" Beatrix shouted. "Make a move or I will condemn you for a coward!"

In one swift motion, she withdrew her sword, Save the Queen. Kuja eyed it hungrily. On the off chance that Beatrix died in the war, Kuja had officially appraised the sword at a starting bid of seventy-thousand gil.

"Admire it all you like." Beatrix turned the blade, reflecting a beam of light into Kuja's eyes and forcing him to look away. "It will not change what happens when it enters your flesh."

"Prove it."

Beatrix shot forward. Her sword was upon Kuja in a second, but with his hand cloaked in a Barrier, he caught the blade overhead. The crowd gasped. Kuja peered at Beatrix from beneath the blade. Her eye was wide. Then, with a cry of frustration, she swung her sword up and around, only for Kuja to catch it on his forearm.

"I told you I did not need a shield," he teased.

Beatrix's eye twitched. "Is your magic for naught but defense?!"

Kuja didn't want to make a spectacle of the fight, but it was worth it to deflate Beatrix's ego. Without warning, Kuja knocked her sword back. A burst of magic threw Beatrix backwards. Her boots skidded through the sand, sending dust into the air. Beatrix barely had time to gasp before throwing herself away from the massive fireball careening towards her. Soldiers cried out in disbelief. Beatrix hit the ground but rolled back onto her feet in a second. She was already charging forward. Kuja saw through her play – she meant to provoke him over and over until she had seen every possible magic attack.

_Beauty_ and _brains. _In that moment of distraction, however, Beatrix feinted suddenly. Kuja jerked away just in time to avoid a beheading. If not for his enhanced reflexes, he would have suffered a _very_ ugly haircut.

_Fantastic._ Kuja whirled around and knocked Beatrix back with a surge of magic. _She would make an incredible ally._

Kuja briefly lamented the fact that an alliance with Beatrix was rapidly dwindling – that is, until he caught Beatrix's sword and kicked her hard in the gut. She grunted in pain and stumbled backwards. A second later, Kuja hissed as a silver blur sheered a lock of hair from his face.

_She's catching on to your strategies, _Kuja thought as his silvery hair fluttered away.

"Time to change the game."

Beatrix's entire arm went limp as lightning raced up her shoulder. She grit her teeth as her vambrace charred, but she refused to release her weapon. Impressed, Kuja prepared to attack before she recovered. Beatrix froze, however, and squinted at something over his shoulder.

"…Wait…"

Kuja scowled in distaste. "Do you take me for a fool?!"

There was a shout from the edge of the field, however, and Kuja whirled around in time to see the Lady Renald drop her parasol and run to the castle. She stumbled over her skirts, but still managed to bolt before any soldiers could stop her. Beatrix stormed towards the edge of the field.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An ominous feeling came over Kuja as he hurried over to make sure Asha was alright. She frowned up at him in confusion.

"What happened?" Kuja demanded. Asha shook her head. "I don't know. She just ran away…"

Kuja got down on one knee and put his hands on Asha's shoulders. "Did she say anything? Did she explain herself at all?"

"No…"

"Kuja, my boy – that was astounding!"

Kuja flinched. He hadn't realized Queen Brahne was standing right behind him. She moved awfully fast for someone of such… girth. Kuja rose to his feet and bowed.

"I am humbled, Your Majesty. General Beatrix was sure to win. Her speed and stamina are unparalleled."

Beatrix scowled. "Save your pretty words for the galas – flattery will get you nowhere here." Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Beatrix stormed off to find Lady Renald.

"Ignore her." Queen Brahne waved a flabby arm through the air. "She is a sore loser."

"I did not truly win," said Kuja. It was a half-truth, at least. Neither of them had truly felled the other, but Kuja was sure – with absolute certainty – that he would have defeated the general within minutes. In some ways, he was glad he hadn't. Perhaps he could still win her favor…

"Enough with this humility!" Queen Brahne's face was practically purple. "I have never seen anything like this, Kuja… This power – we have _much_ to discuss!"

Kuja nearly sagged with relief. "I am glad to hear it, Your Highness."

Asha tugged excitedly on Kuja's sleeve. "Will _I _be able to do that someday?"

Kuja smiled and patted Asha on the head. "I am quite sure you will, child."

Queen Brahne grimaced as if the sight of happiness made her sick.

;

_Sounds shrieked past me as I flew through a tunnel of nightmares. I tried to right myself in the hurling sea of chaos – tried to make sense of what I was seeing – but colors flew in and around me until I no longer had skin or hair or _anything_. I tried to find something to hold onto – anything that made sense in this swirling madness._

_Voices simultaneously shouted and grabbed me like claws. I tried to escape, but the voices chased me. They knew me – they knew "Zidane" – or whatever it was that made me the person they _called_ Zidane. I was plunged forward into a storm of screams._

"_Zidane – !"_

"_Zidane!"_

"_Go!"_

"_Zidane!"_

"_Go!"_

"_Hurry!"_

"_Go!"_

"_He is there!"_

"_He is here!"_

"_He is coming!"_

_Something dark slithered through the voices and they broke away from me like strings. There was another voice now – a quiet whisper that somehow shook the darkness.._

"_**Zidane…"**__ it murmured. __**"You have come."**_

_The voice pressed down on me until I nearly choked._

"_**You are a fool…"**__ The pressure increased._

"_G-Garland…! You bastard!"_

"_**You are such a disappointment."**_

_I was being crushed, and it felt like I would simultaneously collapse and explode._

"_Garland! You coward! Sh-show yourself – !"_

"_**You will regret coming here, Zidane."**_

"_No! _You're_ gonna regret that I came here!"_

_I pushed forward, but it was like being trapped in an ocean beneath an anchor. I screamed and struggled, but every second, I drowned a little more. I knew Garland was strong – he'd nearly defeated Mikoto – but nothing could've prepared me for the power he'd been gathering from the Iifa Tree. Little by little, I was being suffocated by a thousand furious souls. Now I understood why Kuja wanted to give me his hatred. At the same time, a horrible truth dawned on me – even if I used Kuja's power, we would be nothing more than a buzzing fly to Garland's power. We couldn't possibly defeat him…! This was so far beyond us –_

"_Kuja!" I screamed ._

"_**He is not here,"**__ said Garland._

_Something surrounded me like a fist. As I screamed, chaotic colors flashed. At last, I understood what Kuja had feared all these years – the spiritual suffering he had endured at the hands of Garland._

"_**Kuja is not here,"**__ Garland repeated. __**"I have defeated him."**_

_A shock ran through me. "Wh-what?!"_

_That was impossible – Kuja _couldn't_ be dead. I still saw his dreams in my sleep – how could I see inside a mind that was no longer –_

"Kuja hoped that fracturing his soul would leave the curse behind…"

_No… It couldn't be… Just because Kuja had fractured his soul... Even if Kuja was dead… wouldn't the fragments die too…? No, he wasn't dead. He _wasn't_. _

"_**He is not dead,"** said Garland.** "He is of more use to me alive."**_

_The world dropped out around me. I could see through a thousand eyes in every direction at once. Kuja was lying in the heart of the Iifa Tree, with vines wrapped around his arms and legs. Even as I watched, more vines lashed out and curled around his throat._

"_What are you doing?!" I shouted._

"_**I am giving him the purpose he so desired. I had not realized Kuja possessed such power… He has greatly exceeded my expectations. In the end, it seems **_**you**_** are my greatest disappointment."**_

"_You say that as if I _care!_" I struggled, even as my spirit weakened. "This isn't over, Garland! I – I will find a way – I will defeat you!"_

"_**You are wrong, Zidane. **__**I have already won."**_

_The pressure collapsed on me and I became nothing more than agony exploding in every direction. I screamed and screamed against the weight of Garland's power. It was true… it was _true_…_

_Garland had won._

_I fell through a thousand miles of darkness. When I landed, Kuja was leaning over my body. He pressed a finger to his lips. His eyes flashed red._

"_You have to trust me," he whispered._

_And then I was gone._

;

"Like this?"

Kuja pulled Asha's hand closer. "Magic is a current, Asha. It flows like water, and it must exit. You must always make sure that exit as far from your body as possible, or you might hurt yourself. That is why I always release magic from my hands."

Asha stared at her fingers until she was almost cross-eyed. "It's not working…" she said sadly.

"You may not be ready, child." Kuja grabbed a brush from the dresser and attempted to smooth out Asha's curls. "The magic will come."

"I wanna be able to do what you did. I wanna be strong like Beatrix."

Kuja chuckled. "You will be. One day, you will not even need a sword or armor as she does."

"You think so?" Asha turned her head to give Kuja a hopeful look.

"I know so." Kuja pried gently at a particularly stubborn curl. Brushing Asha's hair made him feel a euphoria that terrified him.

_Do not let your emotions overpower you,_ Kuja reminded himself. _Happiness is more dangerous than hatred. Hate is eternal, but happiness can be taken away…_

"Kuja…?"

Kuja frowned at the strange tone in Asha's voice. She was hiding her face in her hands for some reason. An ominous feeling crawled up Kuja's spine as he gently raised Asha's chin so he could see her face in the candlelight. Then he gasped in horror. Blood was running in an endless stream from Asha's nose.

_No…_

"Kuja?" Asha stared up at him, confused and scared, yet Kuja was so paralyzed by terror that he couldn't utter a single word.

_I did this… _His thought in horror._ I did this…!_

With a shaking hand, Kuja grabbed a handkerchief and wiped away the blood under Asha's nose. _Like all the others… _he thought._ Like all my creations, she's falling apart… I did this… This is my fault… I made a mistake somewhere… something in the formula… My magic is breaking down inside her…_

Kuja cast a healing spell upon Asha, which stemmed the flow of blood for a moment. Nonetheless, Kuja refused to release her chin from his bloodless fingers.

_I don't understand – I don't know what to do – I never managed to save the life of a single monster – She is going to _die_ –_

"Kuja?" Asha's fear had turned to wide-eyed terror. She had never seen Kuja afraid of anything before.

"Just… just hold on a moment." Kuja sat back in his chair and pressed a hand over his mouth. When a tear rolled down Asha's cheek, however, he realized he had to gather himself together.

"Are… are you hurt?" he asked as he gently pushed a lock of hair behind Asha's ear. She shook her head, though her lips trembled.

"No…"

Asha was no longer bleeding. There was still time… He could still figure out how to fix this… He _would_ fix this. He _had_ to. For the first time in his life, Kuja realized how much he needed – _No!_ He did not need _anyone_. But Asha was his responsibility, and he could _not_ let her die –

With a flurry of reassurances, Kuja ushered Asha into bed and sat beside her until she succumbed to exhaustion from her ordeal. When Kuja was sure she was asleep, he stood up and collapsed into the chair by the window. .

Kuja did not move from that spot until morning.

;

"_Zidane…?"_

"…_swear it was like that when I got there…"_

"_Zidane!"_

"_Wha – ?!" I sat up so suddenly, Mikoto jumped back with eyes the size of teacups._

"_Zidane…" she breathed. "You're back…!"_

_I clutched my forehead, which was throbbing. "For the love of – Mikoto, please tell me we had an awesome party, and what I'm experiencing right now is a hangover."_

"_A what?"_

"_Damn."_

_Mikoto looked terrified for some reason. "Zidane, are… are you alright?"_

"_No, I'm hungover."_

"_I – I could not pull you out." Mikoto was white as snow. "Garland – his powers are beyond anything I have seen… I tried to go after you, but he managed to cut our tether and block me from the realm. I was so sure – "_

"_Mikoto!"_

_She looked completely shell-shocked. "What?"_

"_I'm _fine_."_

_A moment later, the tension drained from Mikoto's body. She took a deep breath before speaking. "What _happened_ in there?"_

"_I… don't know," I admitted. I dragged myself out of bed and limped over to the window. Outside, the storm howled. "It was insanity." I turned to face Mikoto. "You told me the spirit world is dark!"_

"_It's dark for me." Mikoto frowned. "But we may sense the realm differently…"_

"_There was all this noise – all these crazy colors! I couldn't make heads or tails of it – it was like falling through shards of colored glass. There were all these voices coming at me, and they were yelling at me for some reason!"_

_Mikoto paled. "You could hear the thoughts of the spirits?! That is a gift I thought only Kuja possessed…!"_

"_What?"_

"_It's how Kuja so easily operates the Invincible and absorbs the individual personalities of souls. When we fight Garland, Kuja can see energies that are completely invisible to me. But to _communicate_ with the souls of the dead… I thought one had to _be_ dead to do so…"_

"_Maybe I _was_ dead."_

"_You were not. I was here the whole time."_

"_It felt like the spirits were pushing me forward," I said. "Like they wanted me to fight Garland. And then Garland was there, and it was like… it was like I was _dying_."_

"_How did you escape?"_

"_I have no idea. I called out for Kuja – thought he might still be there, y'know? – but Garland told me Kuja was defeated." Mikoto's eyes lit with horror. "I could see Kuja alive in the tree, but Garland was holding him in there. It was like he was draining Kuja alive."_

_Mikoto looked completely stunned. I sighed and turned back to the window._

"_And then it was dark, and Kuja appeared. He… told me to trust him…"_

"_I… I will go to him," said Mikoto. "I will find out what's happening."_

"_You can't." Outside, the wind screeched. "Garland will destroy you. I think he's… feeding off Kuja's powers somehow. However strong the Iifa Tree was before, Garland's practically doubled it."_

"_But we must do _something_…"_

_Kuja's red eyes suddenly flashed through my mind. _Trust me,_ he'd said. But how could _anyone_ trust Kuja? I didn't doubt for a moment that he'd blow up the whole continent if it meant he got his revenge._

Trust me…

_And then, suddenly, I understood. I rested my forehead against the window._

"_Mikoto… what if I told you I had a plan?"_

_Mikoto looked wary. "What sort of plan?"_

_My breath misted against the window. "The kind of stupid, reckless, completely idiotic plan I'm becoming famous for…"_

_I could still see Dagger's face – the tears she hid as the airship pulled away from the Iifa Tree. I closed my eyes and tried to resign myself to what I had to do._

"_It's the kind of plan I might never come back from…"_

;

**A/N: Let the insanity begin! Those of you who read the original version of this fic probably remember how trippy it got towards the end. It's time to head back into the storm! This fic will start to resemble the original version a lot more closely from now on. Proof that this is still the same story! Thanks to everyone for reading, and I'll see you all for chapter 8!**

**Comments and criticism welcome!**


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